


Marked

by CharWright5



Series: Marked Series [1]
Category: Big Time Rush
Genre: Allusions to death, Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Angst, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder, Mystery, Romance, Supernatural - Freeform, Tattoos, Terror, road trip fic, sorta road trip fic, whatever they go on a road trip in it so road trip fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 05:43:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 96,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1214860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharWright5/pseuds/CharWright5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He woke up with no clothes, no name, and no memory of anything, just strange tattoo-like marks on his body. Now, six months later, something is after Kendall for reasons he isn't aware of, talking about an item he's never even heard of. But when the brunet that's been stalking him tells him to get in the car, he doesn't hesitate, starting an adventure that will bring him answers, life-threatening terror, and possibly a love he didn't know could exist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my fic for Big Time Bang back in November 2013. Since I just created an AO3 recently, figured I'd post it on here, too.
> 
> First of all, I have to give a major huge shout out to my beta Liz for being totally awesome and being the right amount of harsh (lol) to push me into making this thing perfect. Thanks for all the reassurances when I was freaking out and, for the five-hundredth time, sorry about the length of this beast. Another huge thank you to my bestie Nath for dealing with my “OH GOD I CAN'T DO THIS I'M GONNA THROW UP” messages and tweets and for having faith when I didn't. Third shout-out to John Murphy for creating the score to “Sunshine” that was my background music for pretty much this entire thing.
> 
> This is an idea that has been in my head for over a year that's changed and shifted and had so many other influences put into it, but I never got around to writing it until BTB. It just seemed like a good excuse to actually get this thing done. Although, I never thought it would be this long...Um, sorry.
> 
> I do not own BTR, although if I did, by the Angel, the amount of gay that would be happening. All characters used herein are property of Nickel-lolwedontputongoodshowsanymore-odeon. The mythological creatures mentioned in this aren't my own and belong to the folklore of countless cultures. I just rearranged and reworked a lot of it to suit my own needs because artistic license.

At least it hadn't gotten bigger.

Kendall shrugged, letting out a sigh as he stared into the hand-held mirror, aiming it so he could see the larger bathroom mirror being reflected, giving him a perfect view of his back. Well, mostly perfect. Would be better to see the whole thing at once, rather than bits and pieces but fuck it. Good enough.

Green eyes narrowed as they focused on the small reflective glass, taking in the image displayed. It was big, reaching from his lower back, up his spine, ending under his hairline. Huge, black tribal looking lines that fanned out across his shoulder blades, permanently etched on his skin like a tattoo.

Then there was the other mark, the circle on the inside of his left forearm, a ring with a small isosceles triangle in the middle, pointing towards the outside, with a small rune, symbol, _something_ at the top, bottom, and sides. It was almost like he had some sorta compass on his arm, for whatever reason.

The third mark was on the bottom knuckle of his left ring finger, a crescent moon with an arrow going through it, kinda reminding him of a bow and arrow, but... not.

He inspected the marks on his back, the intertwining lines, the slight curves and twists, the way it covered a good majority of his skin. He wondered why he'd gotten it, what about the image had appealed to his past self to the point where he had decided to get them tattooed on him. Because, really, that was the only way his body could have been marked to such an extent. Only he didn't remember ever getting inked.

Not that he could remember _anything_ really.

Another harsh sigh left him as he lowered the mirror, roughly rubbing a hand over his face. It'd been six months since he'd been found, naked and wandering in a fast food parking lot, no name, no memory. After that came six months of therapy, of trying to remember something, _anything_ and getting nothing in return.

Well, not entirely nothing.

But dreams of wandering in the woods weren't really any sorta clue, considering that's what he'd done after he woke up, before stumbling upon a White Castle and giving a little old lady the shock of her life.

And, of course, she turned out to be his next door neighbor at the foster home he'd been placed in.

He apologized to Ms. Majikowski several times in forms of raking leaves and promises to mow her lawn when it got warm enough. She tried to pay him for his efforts in hot cocoa, but he always turned her down. He barely got cold, even in negative temperatures.

Which was weird apparently, at least according to his foster sister, Katie.

Shaking the thought out of his head, he turned and placed the mirror on the counter, inspecting the other marks that adorned his skin, clues to who he was that said nothing. He ran a calloused finger over them, forearm first, finger next, feeling the smooth skin, the darkened flesh, hoping for the five millionth time that something would come to him as he did so.

No such luck.

Same shit, different day.

He had no idea why he thought it'd be different, why he thought something would suddenly and magically appear in his memory bank. Wishful thinking he figured. He really needed to cut that shit out. It got him nowhere fast.

The dull thud of a knock was what finally drew his attention away from his reflection. He called out a “yeah”, pushing back from the counter he'd been leaning over, grabbing his tee from the spot he'd left it.

“Kendall?” It was his foster mom, Jennifer. He had to give her a lotta credit. When social services told her she'd be taking in a teenage boy—at least they were _pretty_ sure he was about seventeen—with no memory and no ID, she hadn't blinked, had simply opened the door and said “welcome to your new home”. And while it still didn't feel like “home” half a year later, he didn't feel completely outta place. And considering he actually had a roof over his head and clothes on his back, he clearly couldn't complain.

“We gotta leave soon or we'll be late, all right?”

Kendall nodded, forgetting she couldn't see through the locked wooden door. “I'll be there in a minute,” he called back before slipping his shirt over his head, sliding his arms through the sleeves.

Footsteps were heard outside the bathroom, the squeak of her sneakers on wood floors heading away. He adjusted his tee around his waist, the bottom laying along the belt of his sagging jeans, eyes going back to the mirror. Bags were visible under his eyes, whiskers on his jaw and cheeks. He looked exhausted. He supposed that was to be expected really, considering the lack of sleep he'd been getting. Hard to get good shut eye when you felt an overwhelming sense of paranoia and panic, not to mention dreams of being in the woods looking for...

His brow furrowed. He had no clue what he was looking for; he just knew it was important, like life-altering for everyone on Earth important. Important enough to know that if he didn't find it—and soon—a whole lotta bad was gonna happen. Although he wasn't entirely sure what kind of bad, just that it _was_ bad.

Whatever. He didn't have time for this shit.

Then again, he was about to head to therapy. If there was ever a time for getting deep and trying to figure out the meaning of shit, it was then.

With a final sigh and another quick visual perusal, he left the bathroom, flipping off the light as he went.

Jennifer was waiting downstairs, giving him a small smile when he reached the bottom floor of the house. “Ready?”

He shrugged, not really knowing how else to respond. He was more than ready for answers, more than ready to figure out who he was, where he came from, why he couldn't remember any of it. But talking to a stranger he barely knew—despite twice weekly visits over the past six months—wasn't exactly appealing to him. The one thing he'd seemed to have learned about himself was that telling people about his emotions or any deep shit like that wasn't something he was comfortable with. And whenever he _did_ actually feel the desire to open up, something in the back of his head would start screaming at him to shut up, that it wasn't right, that that person shouldn't know, _couldn't_ know. It made him feel crazy, made him even more self-conscious, and therefore more likely to keep it all to himself.

But Jennifer wasn't deterred, had dealt with hard cases like him before. At least that's what she claimed. He hadn't exactly seen the proof. But she never pushed him, never forced him to talk or do anything he wasn't ready to do. Instead, she gave him a kind smile, one that crinkled around her sparkling eyes, and changed the subject. Or, in this case, lead him outside to the car.

The house was an average four bedroom, three bathroom type of deal that was part of a seemingly repeating pattern on the average street it lived on. Kendall may not have known much, but to him, the whole scene just screamed “stereotypical suburban neighborhood.” Countless houses lined both sides of the street, lawns covered in leaves, dying grass, or actually green blades from the one neighbor who seemed determined to actually have a nice lawn. More power to him really.

Kendall's green eyes roamed the neighborhood, searching for.... well, he had no fucking idea really. It was just a weird habit of his, forever a minute detail in the constant presence of paranoia in the back of his mind. Something was after him, something was gonna get him, something was...

He shook his head, digging the heel of his hands into his eyes as he stood by the car, waiting for the click that signaled it had been unlocked. Clearly his dream from the night before was getting to him, just making shit worse, messing with his head. It wasn't that big a deal and nothing was after him. It only felt that way since he had no clue about who he was and it was leading him to think of the worst possible scenarios about what his past held.

That's what he kept telling himself anyway.

Letting out a sigh, he dropped his hands, feeling them slap against his thighs as he looked around once more. Everything was fine, everything was normal, nothing outta place...

Except for the dark haired guy dressed all in black hanging over at the corner of his street, motorcycle resting in front of him. Aviator sunglasses masked half his face, leather jacket creased from where he folded his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the street sign. And even with the few hundred feet or so of distance between them, Kendall got the impression that he wasn't one to be fucked with, that he was dangerous, that he was someone to leave the fuck alone as you held your valuables close to you and hoped he didn't decide to jump you anyway.

Basically the dude didn't belong in Suburbia USA.

An odd feeling settled over Kendall, a belief that while he should've been freaked the fuck out, should've been scared, should've been worried, he actually wasn't any of those things. Which was probably the most worrying part of the whole situation. Sure, his stomach was flipping and his heart was pounding and his skin was tingling, but it wasn't outta fear or unease. It was something else entirely, something he couldn't put his finger on...

“Kendall!”

His head snapped to his foster mom as she stood across the car from him, one hand on the roof of the sedan, the other on the open door. An expectant look was on her face, a manicured eyebrow raised.

“You gonna get in or just stand there staring at nothing all day?”

The teen opened his mouth to speak, head turning back to the street corner, only to find the guy and his bike were both gone. Fucking weird. He didn't recall hearing an engine start up and there was no way he could've missed the rumbling of a motorcycle, even from that distance.

But the confusion was overpowered by a sudden sense of loss, one that rivaled a similar feeling that he'd had while he'd slept the night before, a feeling that didn't seem to dissipate after he woke up.

All right, maybe it was just the lingering effects of a strange ass dream. It was entirely possible, right? Wasn't like it hadn't happened to him before.

Turning back to Jennifer, he shoved a hand through his hair, nodding his head as he did so. He pushed everything in his head to the side, determined not to worry about the black-clad stranger, the silent motorcycle, or any thoughts or emotions those two things had brought to the surface. Instead, he was gonna focus on the therapy session he was heading to and hope that he'd actually remember something.

Because, hey, maybe the memories actually _were _coming back. Maybe the dream was a sign of things to come as far as remembering who he'd been and where he'd come from.__

__He wondered if that was a good thing or not._ _

____

~*~*~*~*~*~

“So. How are you feeling today?”

It was the same question the start of every session. He supposed Dr. Wainwright was a good doc, did good shit or whatever. Her specialty was memory loss and amnesia, recovering memories, helping people adjust to a life filled with strangers who claim to know you. Kendall, unfortunately, was the exception. The strangers he was surrounded by didn't actually know him any more than he knew himself. Which really didn't help him at fucking all.

But still, he showed up, answered her questions, talked about what was going on in his life, if anything seemed familiar at all, if he remembered anything. Yet it was always the same shit. No new memories, same ol' dreams of wandering in the woods. Dreams that definitely didn't feel like something that had already happened.

And, okay, he didn't really have any proof that they'd never happened. And the fact that it was similar to how he'd woken up didn't help differentiate reality from revery. He had no clues that it wasn't connected to when he'd come to other than he'd woken up at night, a black sky overhead, the parking lot fully lit up—which helped him find his way out really—and in the dreams, it was day time, light pouring down through the trees, and seemingly no fast food joints in the area.

Dr. Wainwright had argued that they could still be memories, just that he'd had some sorta accident in the woods during the day, passed out, then awoken at night. But he insisted that wasn't the case, spent nearly an hour debating with her about it, to the point where he was literally screaming and yelling about how he didn't see the point in coming to her office if she wasn't even gonna fucking believe him and the whole thing was stupid anyway and he shouldn't be talking to anyone about anything.

Their next session was full of apologies for his behavior and a discussion as to why he felt like he shouldn't talk to anyone. He had no clue.

Still had no clue.

Kendall let out a sigh from his usual slumped position on the white couch. Everything in the office was white. White carpet, white walls, white coffee table, white desk. He figured it was supposed to be calming, soothing, relaxing, that the flat color scheme was to help people focus on the conversation, rather than the different shades of wood in the furniture. For him, it was slightly unnerving, too bright. He preferred darker colors, deeper shades of greens and browns and blacks, hues found in nature. Ones he could hide in. Although he wasn't entirely sure what he needed to disappear from, just that it was an appealing concept. He kept that thought to himself, too.

Dr. Wainwright sat patiently in her chair across the coffee table from him, left leg crossed over right, stiletto heel hanging off her toes. She was always impeccably dressed, today in a gray pencil skirt and burgundy silk top, the colors complimenting her dark skin tone, the outfit itself seeming more office professional than medical. But whatever. Kendall wasn't there to act as fashion police; he was there to figure out what the fuck was inside his head and why he couldn't reach it.

His spread legs waggled back and forth, open, closed, open, closed, open, closed, as he folded his arms over his lean chest. He knew he had to answer, knew he had to say something. He just had no fucking idea what to say.

“Confused, I guess,” he replied with a shrug, figuring it was as good an answer as any. And it was the truth, not the whole truth, but the truth nonetheless. She should've been happy about that.

She nodded, brushing black hair back behind her bare shoulder. “So, same as always,” she summed up, tapping her white pen against the white pad on her lap.

Another shrug. It was how they'd spent their first session, her asking questions, him just shrugging, for fifty-five minutes, right until she told him flat out that if he actually wanted help, he needed to contribute or at least act like he was willing to participate in the whole thing, otherwise she wasn't gonna be bothered with it either and would just drop him. Other people had problems with their memory, too, and she wasn't about to waste valuable time with some jerk teenager who wasn't gonna cooperate, rather than helping those who actually would do the work necessary for it.

His second session he told her about his reoccurring dream.

It'd been mentioned in every session since.

And it wouldn't be so bad if Kendall actually _did_ feel like maybe it was something that he'd experienced, but it wasn't. And to top it off, it was exactly the same, every single time. Nothing new. The same light shining down, the same leaves on the trees, the same fallen down log, and off in the distance, the same cave. One that, for some reason, he was positive he was heading for.

Only he never reached it.

Session number six was spent discussing his frustrations with that. Dr. Wainwright said it was perfectly natural and that when he was ready, he'd reach it. She theorized that it was his brain's way of telling him that his memories were still there, locked up in a place for safe keeping. And in a way, it did make sense.

Didn't mean it didn't fucking suck ass though.

His eyes did another sweep around the room, coming across the clock as they often did. An hour in this room, twice a week, for the past six months. Forty-eight hours of the same discussions, the same topics of conversation. The monotony of it was getting to him, making him wish he had something, _anything_ new to bring up and talk about. 

The man in black flashed in his mind, but he quickly dismissed the idea of bringing him up. For some reason—another inexplicable feeling that he felt in the back of his head—he knew talking about that guy wasn't a possibility, especially to...

His brow furrowed. Especially to who? Or what? What the fuck was he about to mentally say?

“Kendall?”

He looked at Dr. Wainwright, her head tilted to the left in question. “Yeah?”

“You look like you wanted to say something,” she pointed out. Her dark eyes were analytical as they locked onto him, searching his face for clues, trying to figure out what he was thinking. “What's going on?”

His left hand lifted, fingers combing through his hair, smoothing it to his scalp once more. His foster mom had asked if he'd wanted to get it cut before starting school last month, but he'd turned her offer down. He liked the dead mohawk look he was rocking, liked the rat tail at the back. Not to mention it was part of his past self, something he wanted to hold onto. Dr. Wainwright had said his situation was a chance for a fresh start, a clean slate. If he wanted, he could become someone else, could be whoever he wanted. He had every opportunity to build a great life, one that could be better than what he'd had before, and be the best person he could possibly be without anything from his past tying him down or holding him back.

Only he didn't want that. His mind was already a pretty clean slate and it wasn't something he was enjoying, wasn't something he wanted to have continue throughout his life. Instead, he wanted to be tied down, wanted to be held back. He wasn't entirely sure why, but the prospect of starting over wasn't an appealing idea, wasn't something he desired. There was something from his past that he was determined to cling on to, despite not knowing exactly what it was. He just knew it was important and that the thought of never finding it—or at least finding out what it was—was scarier than anything he could imagine.

Which was why his dream from the night before had been somewhat of a huge revelation, and while he theorized his therapist would be pretty happy to hear his beliefs about his memory returning, that small voice in the back of his head was once again nagging at him to keep his mouth shut and not say a word. His jaw clenched as his brow furrowed, chewing on his thumbnail in a strange way to keep himself from talking. He knew he should be thinking up a way to convey his feelings, to explain his dream, yet he couldn't. All he could hear in his mind was that repetitive demand to shut up and keep that shit to himself.

It was soon drowned out by the memory of said therapist stating that he needed to be upfront and forthcoming with information if he ever wanted anything to work.

Loosely folding his hands over his torso, he spoke. “I had a dream last night.”

She nodded, glossed lips pursed in thought. “The same one?”

He shook his head, eyes focused on her stiletto, mind absently wondering what kinda doctor wears those kinda shoes. “Different,” he started, only to clarify immediately after. “I mean, I was still in the woods, but it was night this time. And it was a different area.”

Her eyes went to the pad on her lap, pen quickly scribbling as she spoke. “What makes you so sure it was different?”

His eyes narrowed in concentration, as if he could picture it if he squinted enough, like it would help him see it and describe it to her that way. “Different trees, I guess. And I didn't see that log on the ground or the cave. Didn't feel like I was looking for it either. Felt more like—” He paused, shaking his head as his brow furrowed, as he struggled to find the right words to accurately depict what had happened. “Like I was running _from_ something. And it felt like a memory.”

That had the good doc's eyes going to him, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “You remembered something?” She seemed almost in disbelief, like it wasn't supposed to happen, like he wasn't supposed to get his memory back.

Confusion remained on his face as he looked up at her. What the hell kinda reaction was _that_? Wasn't that the whole point of him going to see her? Wasn't that why he gave up two hours every week to talk with her? To get his memory back and figure out why he lost it in the first place?

He slowly nodded, feeling like he was saying the wrong thing. But he wasn't. He had actually _remembered_ something, even though her reaction and his own mind were telling him it wasn't a possibility.

Weird. As. Fuck.

Dr. Wainwright laid her pen flat on the pad, covering it with both hands and uncrossing her legs. Determination was displayed on her features, her eyes hard as they looked at him, lips pursed as she seemed to give it one last consideration before deciding to do it anyway. “I wanna try something new,” she stated, leaning forward, forearms resting on her pad. “Ever been hypnotized?”

He voiced out a “no” before listening to her explain the process, going through the steps it would take in order to put him under and try to draw out this memory he'd stumbled upon. And while the entire thing sounded completely fucking insane, he was willing to try anything. He just wanted to know who he was.

Soon enough, he found himself laying on the couch, pillow propped behind his head, ankles crossed over one of the armrests, his tall body a little too long for the sofa. Dr. Wainwright was seated on the coffee table, a small black stone that had no business in this all white office being held in front of his line of sight. Her voice was soothing as she told him to focus on it and nothing else, to clear his mind, to allow his body to relax and drift off.

Clearing his mind proved to be the hardest though, silencing cynical thoughts of how this was bullshit and it was never gonna work nearly impossible. But he did it, focusing on the stone, on the oval shape of it, on the smooth exterior, on the shiny finish that covered it. And it was only a matter of time before he felt his eyelids get heavier, his body get lighter, and everything go black...

~*~*~*~*~*~

_Sticks crunched under his feet, his steps heavy, angry, a steady stomping trudge. He was gonna get lost in the woods, but he didn't care. He just needed to get away, far away from..._

_No. He wasn't gonna think the bastard's name. He just wanted to go._

_Problem was said bastard had been the one who'd driven them and now Kendall was left without a ride._

_Fucking awesome._

_“Kendall!” His name was called out from a distance behind him, the previously mentioned bastard seeming to be following him. “Kendall, c'mon! We weren't done talking!” A slight pause, before the jerk continued on. “Just lemme explain! Kendall, come back! I swear to you it's not what you think!_ Kendall! _”_

_He ignored the pleas for his return, his face hardening into a bigger glare, still pissed, his steps quickening._

_But it wasn't just anger that he felt. It was hurt, rejection, sadness, all of it aching in his gut. He knew the conversation had been coming, knew that what they'd been doing was wrong, against the rules, something they shouldn't have even_ thought _about much less participated in. But neither of them could help it. He supposed sometimes compulsions drove actions more than initially thought, sometimes shit got mixed up somewhere between the head and the heart and the wrong organ would win out in the end. After all, they were only human._

_That thought caused his brow to furrow, uncertain about the accuracy of that statement._

_A twig snapped to his right, causing him to stop walking immediately, turning towards the sound and seeing nothing. Panic welled up inside, knowing it wasn't... well, it wasn't the bastard he'd left behind at the restaurant. And while he wasn't one-hundred percent sure who it was, he knew he shouldn't hang around to find out._

_He heard his name being called once again and he spun towards it, the mixture of fear and adrenaline fluttering in his chest. It didn't sound like the first time his attention had been demanded; this time, there was an urgency to it, a cry for more than just his focus._

_“Kendall!” And there it was again, in that same slightly panicked voice. “Run!”_

_The sounds of fighting broke out, of shuffled feet and thrown punches, of grunts of exertion and gasps of pain. He heard the crunch of leaves, the crack of broken branches, the dull thuds of bodies being slammed against trees. Then came the growls, followed by the sounds of tearing fabric and breaking bones._

_Kendall knew he should've turned the other way, _knew_ he should've run as far as possible from the noises, knew he should've headed for safety. But once again, the wrong organ was winning out. He was listening to his heart, ignoring the need to save his own skin in lieu of someone else's._

_His sneaker-clad feet carried him through the forest, over exposed roots and fallen branches. The world around him was a blur of brown, black, and green as he raced toward the sounds. His foot caught on a large stick, causing him to stumble, his hands flying out to catch himself. Scrambling to his feet, he soon regained his previous speed, barely noticing the sting of a jutting twig as it slapped against his cheek as he bolted by. His entire focus was zeroed in on the figures up ahead, watching as one of them was pinned against a large oak trunk, the other male holding him there with a hand around the throat._

_“No!” Kendall screamed before he could even think about it, willing his legs to move faster, demanding he get there sooner. His breath was sawing in and out of his lungs, throat burning, chest heaving. His heart was pounding out of control and he could hear his blood rushing in his ears as he took in the scene before him. Terror had consumed him, an overwhelming fear and panic of losing him, of having him permanently taken away, of never seeing him again. It couldn't happen, wouldn't happen. He wouldn't let it, wouldn't allow them to be torn apart that way, not again._

_Adrenaline kicked into overdrive, overpowering the pain he was feeling in his legs when he sped up, green eyes witnessing the other male taking a blow to the stomach. He could practically hear the hit, feel it himself as the victim doubled over, only to be shoved back against the tree. He was getting his ass kicked, the scent of blood hitting the blond, the sight of it making his heart stop in his chest. He needed to get there, needed to help, needed... needed..._

“Kendall!”

Kendall shot upwards, a scream still being torn from his lungs. He was breathing heavily, panting, chest heaving, burning for oxygen. A thin sheen of sweat coated his skin, his heart pounding in a chest that felt achy and hollow. He felt like he'd just run a marathon.

But he had, hadn't he? He'd been running and there'd been someone chasing him and he was trying to get to...

He looked around at his surroundings, noticing for the first time that he was no longer being chased, no longer trying to get to someone, no longer in the woods. He was in his therapist's office, on the couch, the doctor herself sitting on the edge of it with her hands on his shoulders. Her features were flat, expressionless, calm, but her pupils were blown, a sense of worry and slight fear in the dark orbs.

He had a feeling it was because of him.

Raising his right hand, he shoved his fingers into his hair, gripping onto dirty blond locks and feeling the sweat soaking the roots of them. His panic began to recede: heart rate slowing to a normal pace. But still, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, someone was missing, something...

“What happened?” he questioned.

“I woke you up,” Dr. Wainwright stated, her voice that same calm, soothing tone that had put him to sleep in the first place, her hands leaving him and arms retreating. “You were on the verge of a panic attack.”

His brow furrowed as he stared down at his hands, noticing how they shook as he held them above his lap. The whole thing had felt so fucking real, like he was there, like it was happening in real time, not just some faded reverie from the confines of his mind. God, he'd been so scared, so terrified, and not because of the person who was trying to get him, but because of the scene in front of him, the image of...

He grimaced, his eyes scrunching. The image was gone, the whole thing just wiped away once more. A blank slate.

“Here.”

Kendall looked up, seeing a squat glass of water being offered to him. He hadn't even noticed Dr. Wainwright getting up, his mind not entirely with it just yet. He thanked her before chugging the entire glass, feeling the cold liquid flow down his throat, soothing his dry mouth.

She gave him a small smile, one that said he was welcome, one that said she was relieved he was okay and no permanent damage had been done to him. Walking over, she moved the pad and pen off her chair, sitting down. She didn't say a word, allowing him to come back into his head, back to reality, back to a normal state of being.

The water now all gone, Kendall shifted on the couch, feet falling flat on the floor. He placed the empty glass on the table, flopping over his knees, threading his fingers through his hair. The memory kept repeating itself in his mind and with it came the roller coaster of emotions he'd felt. Only he didn't know why he was mad or upset or afraid.

“Kendall?” Dr. Wainwright's voice was soft, cautious, and easy, obviously meant to get his attention but not scare him any more than he'd already been.

He slowly lifted his head, noting the concern still on Dr. Wainwright's face, mixed with her curiosity about whatever had happened and the reluctance to push him too far. But maybe that's what he needed, a push, a shove in the right direction. Being put under hypnosis had clearly helped. They needed to keep going, needed to stay on that path because it seemed to be heading in the right direction. One that would hopefully lead to him recovering more of his memories. Or at least a few that told him who he was.

Eyebrows raised in expectation, he watched his therapist as she parted her lips, as she inhaled, as she struggled to figure out how to phrase what she wanted to say. Sighing, she then spoke.

“Who's James?”

~*~*~*~*~*~

His foster mom was late picking him up. Which was, whatever. Gave him time to think really, stew shit over.

Truth was... he had no fucking clue _who_ James was. He'd given Dr. Wainwright a blank stare for a full minute before replying with a “say what?” The name didn't sound all that familiar, not really anyway. But hearing it made his chest get tight and his stomach tie up in knots and a myriad of emotions all flood his brain at such a high speed, he felt like he'd been swept up in some sorta feelings tsunami. Clearly that meant that the name had some sorta significance to him. He just hadn't a clue what.

A sigh escaped him as he sat on the wooden bench outside the downtown office building where his therapist was located. At four on a Thursday afternoon, it wasn't all that crowded, only a few people passing him by, all of them too preoccupied with reaching their destination to notice the teen sitting there by himself. Then again, he wasn't exactly paying much attention to them either.

His head hung off lean shoulders as he stared down at his hands, elbows on his knees, right thumb rubbing over the mark on his left ring finger. A crescent moon and a directional arrow. Seemed kinda fitting after what he'd just remembered: feeling lost and at night.

His eyes drifted to the compass-looking mark on the inside of his forearm. Maybe his past self had been metaphorically lost, too. Maybe that's why he'd gotten that tattoo, for some sorta guidance, for some sorta help in navigating through the crazy ride called life.

Maybe he was just clutching at straws. Another therapy session down and he still wasn't any closer to regaining his memory. Then again, who was to say that if he got his memory back he'd know any more about himself? After all, wasn't that one of the great mysteries of life: trying to figure out who one was and what one's purpose was? Why would he be special in that regaining a lost life worth of memories would suddenly give him any answers about any of that shit?

He breathed out a swear, sitting back on the bench, folding his arms over his chest as he took in his surroundings. There seriously wasn't anything about this town that wasn't a stereotype, that wasn't exactly what you'd see as Every Town, USA on TV. The buildings around him were various shades of gray, different heights and signs differentiating between them, but it still seemed like any other downtown in any other mid-sized town in any other state.

Which meant it looked like any other possible places he could've lived—if he'd lived anywhere other than Newtown, Minnesota.

His eyes glazed over a record shop wedged between a bank and a newspaper office, passed over the sub shop and the entrance to a building he knew to be full of various attorneys who practiced in different areas of the law. Nothing really registered, nothing stood out.

Until they came across a semi-familiar face.

Across the street was a Starbucks, one Kendall had been in before during rainstorms while waiting for his ride to show. Along the front window was a table, several stools waiting to be occupied by various coffee drinkers, business-folk on breaks, random college students pretending to be hip as they drank their lattes and typed on their laptops. Only none of them were there. The sole being seated there was the man in black, the leather-clad biker Kendall had spotted down his street earlier that afternoon.

The aviators were still on his face, despite being inside, but the blond had a gut feeling the brunet was staring right at him, that his eyes were fixated on him. His head didn't move as he lifted his paper cup to his lips, as he drank deeply. People avoided him, took wide berths around him, gave him plenty of room as he sat there alone. Which Kendall understood. That same dangerous aura was around him, even without the motorcycle he'd been spotted with earlier, possibly due to the aggressive body language he was sporting, the way every muscle seemed tense, like he was ready to throw a punch at any moment. His hands were clenched into fists around his cup, black leather fingerless gloves covering the appendages, his brow drawn into a hard line above his sunglasses. Even from that distance, Kendall could see the tightness in his jaw and the strained tendons on his neck, drawing his attention to black marks on the left side of it, almost like a tattoo of some form. He squinted his eyes, trying to get a better look, figure out if it really _was_ a tat, only able to really see a couple points near the brunet's throat.

A shiver raced down Kendall's spine, an absent thought about how he should be scared, should be nervous, should be looking away and pretending not to notice how he was being stared at. But he wasn't. Okay, he was a _little_ scared, but oddly enough, not at the biker.

He chalked it up to just after-effects of his recently ended therapy session, lingering emotions from that memory of being chased, of someone being hurt. His usual paranoia was back, getting the best of him once more. He'd always wondered if that fear was a result of something that had happened to him before, an automatic reaction that he wasn't even fully aware of. Now he felt like it was all connected to whatever the fuck had happened to him in the woods.

For some reason, as his green eyes locked with aviator shades, he felt like the man in black was involved.

“This seat taken?”

Kendall's head snapped up and to the right. There, stood a large male, looking down at him. The guy reminded him of the preppy jocks at his high school, popping the collar on not one, but _two_ polo tees. He had the All-American boy next door cliché looks with his blue eyes and dark blond hair, his strong jawline and broad shoulders. His exposed skin was evenly tanned, a stark contrast to teeth that were the perfect white one only ever saw on toothpaste commercials. Arms were corded with thick muscles and wide pecs were shown off thanks to his shirts that seemed as though they were a size too small. Everything about him screamed arrogance, entitlement, a lack of knowing what the word “no” meant. It was in the haughty way he held his nose up, the cocky smirk that revealed a dimple on his right cheek, the expectation in his eyes that meant he was waiting for Kendall to just give him what he wanted as so many others had before him.

But despite the Abercrombie and Fitch outside, there was something darker inside of him, though Kendall couldn't quite put his finger on any one thing that gave him that impression. It was the way his grin didn't seem all that genuine, like it was well rehearsed for situations such as this. It was the glint of something malevolent in his eyes, a sparkle that spoke more of hate and anger rather than friendliness and joy. It was the close proximity that he was standing at, the threatening way he was towering over Kendall in an attempt to make himself seem bigger and more looming. All of it added up to something that made the hairs on the back of Kendall's neck stand on end, something that had the little voice inside his head start demanding that he leave, run off, get somewhere safe and _now_. 

“Uhh.” He struggled to come up with an appropriate response, struggled between being polite and doing what his head was telling him. He eventually decided on turning back to the Starbucks window, searching in some form of desperation for the man in black, whom he discovered was rising from his seat, still not breaking his gaze.

“Thanks.” The prepster stated in what the blond assumed was supposed to be a friendly manner, but instead made him inwardly cringe at the fake cheer behind the tone. The stranger sat anyway, not caring about being polite or the fact that Kendall hadn't actually answered. “Nice tattoo.”

The teen followed the other male's finger, seeing it was pointed at the compass-type mark inside his forearm. “Thanks.” An uneasy smile played on his lips as he swallowed, folding his arms, hiding the tattoo—and the one on his finger for good measure. They weren't for his eyes, weren't supposed to be known. He just had no idea why.

“Any special meaning to them?”

Kendall didn't make eye contact. “Not really,” he lied easily, not entirely sure if he was hiding the truth, yet feeling like he was.

The man in black was making his way towards the door, glancing out the window at the teen, and all Kendall could think was that he needed him to move faster, to get to him quicker, to save him from...

His teeth worried at his bottom lip before he quickly released it. He wasn't sure why exactly he needed saving, much less by the man in the aviators, or even why he needed the man there. He figured in most situations, plenty of people would've preferred the statuesque, model-boy to the leather-clad biker with the mystery shades. Out of the two of them, Polo Shirt would typically be the safer choice.

So why the fuck was his mind telling him it was the other way around?

“Really?” the male next to him questioned, bottom lip sticking out in a thoughtful pout of sorts. With his head tilted to the side and his eyes fixated on the younger male's arms, he looked puzzled, like he'd been expecting a different answer. The expression didn't stay for long though, his attention and line of sight soon moving to Kendall's face, the arrogant smirk returning. “So, you're not a map then?”

His heart stopped.

A cold feeling of dread washed over his entire body, chilling him right to the bone. He felt his entire body tense up. A lump of fear caught in his throat, choking him. His stomach dropped and knotted. That little voice inside his head that had shown up with the other male got louder, demanding that he get up. That he run. That he get the fuck away as fast as possible. But he couldn't; he was rooted to the spot. Scared. Frozen.

The man in black stepped out of the Starbucks, swinging the door open so fast and hard, Kendall was surprised it was still attached to its hinges. There was a careful urgency about his movements, like he was trying to get somewhere in a hurry, yet didn't wanna call attention to himself and let anyone know where he was headed.

Kendall could only hope that he was the guy's destination.

“Hey, you wouldn't happen to know where to find the Key of Manifleiss, would you?” Jett's voice drew his attention back, demanding the teen's focus. His eyes were narrowed, the blue in them hard, dark. His jaw was clenched, muscles in his arms tensed as his fingers closed into fists. Leaning forward, he got right in the other male's space, forcing eye contact in a way that made Kendall's heart start back up and pound at twice its usual speed.

This time, he didn't hesitate to follow his brain's suggestion of running.

His feet scrambled against the concrete as he struggled to get purchase. His legs were still out of order, the fear that had frozen him to the bench not having fully dissipated yet, making the action of simply standing up more difficult than usual. But as soon as he thought he had a halfway decent feel for the ground, he bolted, not looking behind himself.

He'd barely made it to the end of the first building before he felt fingers wrapping around his thin wrist in a bruising grip. Kendall gasped as they tightened around him like a vice, an ache taking hold that he could feel down to his marrow. His eyes went wide as he was yanked to a stop, heart thudding so hard in his chest he swore he could hear it. A shiver raced down his spine, tingles breaking out over his skin, his breathing becoming shallow and shaky. Panic overwhelmed him, a feeling that he'd lost, that it was over, that they were all doomed.

He just had no idea why.

The prepster forced the blond to spin around with a hard pull at his arm, giving him a good look at his size. Kendall was taller by an inch or so, but the other guy was wider, more muscular, and could easily kick his ass. Didn't mean Kendall was planning on going down without a fight though.

“You aren't going anywhere.” The words were practically growled out, blue eyes glowing as his face twisted into an evil grin. He tightened his hold, five distinct sharp pricks stabbing into pale skin, causing the teen's breath to hitch in pain. “We have a lot to discuss, _Map_.” The last word was spat out, like the moniker belonged to a piece of scum that had gotten stuck to the bottom of his two-hundred dollar sneakers.

Kendall could hear the low rumble of a growl, animalistic, drawing away the attention of his attacker, his expressions shifting from victorious to pure terror. His own eyes turned and looked at the empty road, watching as the leather-clad man made his way over. The brunet was looking right at the them, his expression just as hard as before, fists clenched at his sides as he walked in determined strides. There was something predatory about the way he moved and Kendall felt his heart rate double once more, chest tightening even further.

Kendall took advantage of the momentary distraction, slamming his foot into his attacker's groin. The guy released him, doubling over in pain and groaning. Not hesitating, the blond turned and raced down the street, away from the model, away from the office building, away from the man in black.

A couple hundred yards down the street came an intersection, the red hand of the pedestrian crosswalk lit up. Meaning he was supposed to stop and wait for traffic to come to a halt before he continued on his way.

Fuck that. He was crossing anyway.

At least, he was planning on it, until a familiar silver sedan pulled up directly in front of him, forcing him to stop or risk running right into the side of it.

His arms flew out to the side, his body trying to balance itself, still wanting to move forward despite the sudden braking. But he managed it, stopping himself, panting heavily as the passenger side window was rolled down.

Jennifer leaned over, looking at him through the open space, her brow pinched and her lips parted in confusion. “Kendall? You okay?”

He stood there, dumbfounded, wondering why she'd asked such a random question, only to remember that she'd just arrived and obviously couldn't have seen the man he'd been sitting next to, couldn't have seen the way he'd been grabbed, the threatening look on a modelesque face. He quickly checked back to make sure he wasn't followed before turning back to her.

“Yeah. Fine.” Another lie in a long list of them, but whatever. It was necessary. He pointed behind himself with his thumb before continuing. “There was a fight about to break out up there so I decided to get away before I was dragged into it.”

She nodded slowly, parting her lips slightly. “Okay.” She seemed to believe him at least. Shrugging, she straightened up, allowing him to get in the car. Kendall settled in and she turned to the right, driving off.

Back in the direction he'd come from.

His heart started pounding again, not having fully recovered from all the sudden exercise. They were gonna drive right by the prepster, right by the man in black. They were gonna see him and follow him and then...

Well, he didn't know what, but it wasn't gonna be good, he knew that for fucking sure.

As they drew closer to his therapist's office, he sank down in his seat, but made sure he could still peer out the window. Polo Shirt was gone. So was the man in black.

He breathed out a sigh of relief, his head slumping back against the seat. He was okay. He was safe. Nothing—and no one—was gonna get him.

Not yet anyway.

Jennifer glanced at him, concern in her bright eyes. “Tough session?”

He frowned as he stared down at his hands in his lap. His right thumb was rubbing the mark on his left ring finger once again, the subconscious action not even registering as he took in the injuries on his wrist. Five distinct crescent marks, almost _clawed_ into his skin.

A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed it down. “Yeah. Something like that.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Jenny Tinkler was a known clutz.

It was just a fact, something Kendall had picked up on pretty quickly not long after stepping through the doors of the local high school. Danger seemed to follow her everywhere, causing those around her to get hurt. He heard stories of her knocking people down during choir practice and accidentally breaking their arms; of her busting huge holes in walls as she played floor hockey in gym class; of her setting someone's hair on fire in chemistry. Twice.

So it was no surprise when no one wanted to be her partner during Home Ec that day. And since no one was in a rush to work with the new kid who had no history either, it meant Kendall was stuck with the accident waiting to happen.

And they happened to be using the oven that day.

Joy.

He should've known something bad was gonna happen. Even after another near sleepless night with the usual dream—which was pretty much par for the course at this point—he still couldn't shake the feeling that things were gonna be different, like his day was guaranteed to turn strange.

The first sign was the claw marks on his arm. They were healed over. _Completely_ healed over, like they'd been done a week ago rather than a day. All that remained were pinkish lines, the only proof that anything had happened at all.

The second sign was the man in black, who once again was at the corner of his street, watching as Kendall boarded the big yellow bus to head to Newtown High.

He figured being paired up with Jenny was just another part of the phenomenon. After all, didn't things like that come in threes?

Oh, wait, no, bad shit happened in threes.

Although if that was true, then Polo Shirt grabbing hold of him and clawing his arm was probably number two. Number one was obviously whatever accident had led to his memory loss.

Fuck knew Jenny would probably be number three.

Kendall tried to remain positive, tried to tell himself that nothing bad was gonna happen—that it was just his paranoia getting the best of him for the five-thousandth time, blah blah blah. But he still couldn't get rid of the suspicion that something major was gonna happen. And knowing Jenny's history, that major thing was more than likely a trip to the emergency room.

But miracle of miracles, they managed to get everything prepared without incident. And, yeah, sure, making a cake wasn't anything _too_ complicated, especially when most of it was a pre-made mix in a box. But no egg shell got in the bowl, no body parts were removed thanks to any accidents with the electric beater, no splatter was made, no items spontaneously burst into flames, and no injuries were had by anyone.

Thank. God.

The oven preheated beforehand; Jenny put the cake pan full of mix in; Kendall set the timer. He felt a relieved smile slide over his lips as he plopped onto one of the two stools at their station, pleased that the event had gone down without incident.

Well almost.

“Fire!”

Kendall snapped up onto his feet, the wooden stool legs scraping against the hard floor. Quickly turning around, he saw the flames filling the small space inside the oven, saw the panicked look on Jenny's face as she backed away from it.

“What the hell did you do?” he squeaked out without thinking.

The blonde female just continued stumbling away from the oven, eyes wide, mouth hanging open as she stuttered out a few “I-I-I”s. Clearly she was no help.

Without hesitation, Kendall stepped over, switching off the oven before opening the door. Flames roared out at him, the heat licking at his face. He backed his head away as the sensation hit him, the sudden change of temperature against his skin almost like a punch, scorching his nose and throat as he inhaled. Recovering quickly, he reached inside and grabbed the now ruined cake, tossing the pan onto the stove top next to him.

Their petite teacher, Miss Collins, pushed her way through the small crowd that had formed with a surprising amount of force, bellowing at everyone to move aside, lugging a giant fire extinguisher that looked like it weighed more than she did. Spraying the flaming cake with an expertise that told of her years as a Home Ec instructor, she quickly put the fire out, ending the danger.

Or so they all thought.

“Kendall!”

He wasn't sure who called his name, but a glance around the room allowed him to see that everyone was staring at him. Or rather, at his arm.

Tilting his head down, he caught sight of what had everyone so fixated on him: the top of his forearm was on fire.

“Holy—” He never finished the thought, shaking his arm to put the flames out, successful after only a few seconds. An odd sort of calm was felt, despite the fact that he knew fire was dangerous, that it burned and caused serious injuries, and that he should be screaming in pain. But he wasn't. He was just. Stunned.

Miss Collins hurried over, grabbing at his arm, fussing over him and yelling for one of her students to call the nurse, to call 911, to call _someone_. All noises, all the commotion—it all melted away into the background. Kendall stood there, dazed, staring at his forearm.

He hadn't felt a thing while it was on fire.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The ride to the emergency room wasn't all that eventful—if he didn't count the panic and the voice in his head that was screaming at him to get out the ambulance and run like hell.

The voice that only seemed to get worse when they reached Newtown General.

By the time he was plopped into a curtained off area to wait on the doctor, the voice had gotten to the point where it was nearly impossible to ignore, an insistent, screaming demand.

This wasn't right. He shouldn't be there. He wasn't supposed to be in any hospital anywhere. Doctors would find...

His brow furrowed, eyes scrunching as he rubbed his forehead, grasping for whatever reason his mind had for being so against the idea of medical professionals. It wasn't like he hadn't been checked out before. The first thing the cops had done when he'd been found was bring him to that very hospital, where he was given a physical by a doctor who didn't even look old enough to have been in medical school, much less been able to practice medicine.

The very doctor who was shoving the curtain aside and walking in.

Too late to run now.

The brunet physician—Mitchell, if Kendall remembered right—had his head in a file, reading over admittance papers more than likely, making a clicking noise with his tongue as he walked. Flipping a sheet of paper over the top of the file, he looked at the patient, giving him a dimpled smile.

“Nice to see you again, Misterrr—” He drew the syllable out as he moved the paper back, reading the front. “Huh. Knight.” He looked back at Kendall. “You figure out your last name?”

The blond shook his head, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Cops gave me that last name,” he explained, gripping the edge of the stationary gurney he was sitting on. “They thought 'Doe' was too cliché of a last name, so they gave me 'Knight' as a play on where I was found.”

Dr. Mitchell looked at him with pursed lips and confused eyes, clearly not getting the joke.

“Parking lot of a White Castle burger joint.”

“Ohhh.” He let out a small laugh, shaking his head as he read the file once more. Kendall didn't think it was _that_ funny.

The doctor closed the file with a definitive slap, turning his full attention to the teenager on the table. “So. I hear you set your arm on fire.”

Kendall's eyebrows shot up, mouth dropping open. “That wasn't _exactly_ what happened.”

The shorter male tossed the file onto the table, shrugging, his white lab coat opening to reveal blue scrubs. “Doesn't matter. Lemme see.”

All right, straight to the point. The blond had to respect that. And despite the fact that the doc was cool and had checked him out before, that same voice in the back of his head was telling him to back away, to leave, to not let anyone see his arm for any reason. It was a lot like the feeling he'd gotten when that prepster had commented on his tattoo, that urgent, unexplained need to hide it and not let the stranger see it. But for some reason, he knew it wasn't just the mark he needed to be covering; it was everything about him health-wise.

“I'm fine,” he stated nonchalantly, not lying, not really. He _was_ fine. He'd stared at his arm the entire ambulance ride, the entire wait in the small curtained off area. And it looked _exactly_ the same as it had before. No marks, no blisters, no indication that he'd even been _close_ to a fire, much less had his skin engulfed in flames. Which kinda made sense to a degree, considering how he hadn't noticed, hadn't known about it 'til someone pointed it out and he actually saw the fire with his own eyes. He was sure he should've felt something there while his flesh was supposed to be getting singed, but he didn't. If any of his flesh was burning, he was certain it had to be the skin on his back, traced along the lines of the tattoo-like marks on his spine and shoulders.

Weirdest fucking part of the whole thing really.

Dr. Mitchell was staring at him with an arched eyebrow, not entirely buying the statement. Kendall resisted the urge to sigh, to roll his eyes, to just yell at the dude to believe him and let him go, but he couldn't. Would be a little too suspicious really.

“Seriously, I didn't even get near the fire,” he continued, lying his ass off. “Dunno what the big deal was, but whatever. Girls, huh?” He shrugged in a _what can ya do?_ kinda way, shaking his head and letting out a small laugh.

“Uh huh.” The brunet gave a long, slow nod, jaw tense as his lips parted, skepticism in his brown eyes, but after a long moment, it dissipated with a sigh and shrug. “Okay then. Wait right here and we'll see about getting you discharged then, shall we?” He gave him a wink that wordlessly told the teen that while the medical professional had a feeling the younger male wasn't being honest, he was just gonna go along with it and let him go, not make a big deal of it. Clapping a hand on the blond's shoulder, he turned and parted the curtain before leaving, the partition remaining open.

Kendall let out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding, his body slumping in relief. He'd survived. He'd made it through. The doc had bought his bullshit and was letting him go, no questions, no skepticism.

All right, it was a little weird that the medical professional seemed to just go along with everything Kendall said, without even bothering to take a look at his arm. But whatever. Maybe the guy was in a hurry, maybe the ER was swamped that day and he didn't wanna waste any time when he could clearly see the patient's arm was fine; no redness, no swelling, no burns.

“Fuck it,” he mumbled, sliding a hand through his hair with a sigh. Part of him knew he shouldn't care about Dr. Mitchell's reason for leaving, shouldn't give a shit that he hadn't performed a proper thorough exam. He should've been glad it was over and that the doc hadn't asked any questions. He was free, no worries, no need to be concerned about anything being found out that was supposed to be secret.

He frowned at that, not exactly sure what secret his mind was referring to.

Fucking hell was that annoying, knowing he had to keep shit quiet but not knowing what that shit was. He just wished he could remember more than the need to keep his mouth shut. But as it was, all he had was a blank space where memories should be, a distant echoing voice that advised him on what to do, how to handle various situations. He wondered if everyone had it, if it was just a gut-feeling, an instinctual knowledge on what to do, or if it had been programmed in by someone else, drilled through repetition until it was so ingrained it survived whatever had caused his amnesia in the first place. Whatever the case, it brought him comfort and put him at ease whenever he followed the disembodied instructions, although he still found himself wishing it would say something either than “be quiet”, “lie”, “run”. 

He groaned, his hand rubbing over the top of his head, down the back of it, before it dropped onto his lap with a harsh smack. He hated hospitals. He hated doctors. He hated being poked and prodded and looked at and people being in his business. His first experience—really his only other experience—in this place, he'd been searched all over by people he didn't know, invasive procedures that had him shuddering at the memory of how uncomfortable he'd felt at the time. It made him feel like a zoo animal, the analytical eyes scanning him cold and unfriendly. A panic had flooded him and all he could think about was how he wasn't supposed to be looked at that closely and how he should flee as soon as possible, a lot like how he was feeling at that moment. He was ready to fucking go, to get the hell outta there and never look back.

Only he had to wait to be discharged. Awesome.

Kendall's ears perked suddenly to the sound of voices drifting beyond the curtain. Hearing Dr. Mitchell's voice was to be expected, of course. However, it was the other voice that had the blond's blood running cold and the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.

Polo Shirt.

Shit.

Leaning over, he peeked through the still-open curtains, seeing the doctor standing there with the much larger polo-wearing douchebag, the two having some sort of heated conversation in hushed tones, judging by the defensive body language both males were sporting. Both their frames were tense, muscles tightened, arms crossed with their brows pulled into hard lines. The shorter one was glaring up at the taller, face hard, jaw clenched as he spoke:

“He's not here.”

A shiver raced up Kendall's spine and a lump of fear formed in his throat.

The more muscular one snorted, a hard look in blue eyes as he glowered down at the young doctor. There was a strange sense of amusement lingering behind his dark, aggressive expression, like he'd been prepared for that response. “You're a shit liar, healer,” he replied, corner of his lips turned up in a smirk. “I tracked him here myself. I can smell his scent.”

Kendall gripped the edges of the gurney he was on, knuckles turning white. Panic had overruled his body, pushing his pulse upwards and making it harder to breathe. And all the while, he could hear that voice just screaming _get out get out get out!_ But where could he go?

The prepster stepped closer to the doctor, right in his space, only inches separating the two of them. His entire face went hard, the amused smirk disappearing, replaced by the hard lines of fury. Kendall could even hear the crack of his knuckles as Polo Shirt clenched his fists. Or at least he imagined he had. He wasn't entirely sure he could hear anything over the sound of his thumping heart and the rush of blood in his ears.

“You're gonna tell me where he is,” the larger male growled out the threat through gritted teeth and a tense jaw. “Or I'm gonna tear this entire place apart looking for him. After I slowly and painfully rip your skin off strip by strip.”

Kendall's eyes widened, his fear growing for both him and the doctor. But as scared as he was for the other male, a nagging at the back of his head was telling him that _he_ was the one in danger, _he_ was the one who should be feeling threatened, _he_ was the one whose life was at stake.

“Go ahead,” Dr. Mitchell called his bluff, smirking up at the taller male. “Because I'm not telling you shit, _half-breed._ ”

A minor sort of befuddlement managed to work its way through the fear, Kendall sneering in confusion as he wondered what exactly that meant, why the doctor had called Polo Shirt that, why he'd said it in a disgusted tone. It was as though the term was meant to be an insult of some form, given how it was spat out like that.

That smirk tugged up at the corner of the prepster's lips and his eyes sparkled in a dark sort of delight. “Fine. Maybe I'll kill him in front of you so you know you've failed.” He shrugged before continuing. “After we've tortured that map outta his head first.”

Okay, time to go.

Kendall didn't hesitate to listen to his inner-voice this time, grabbing his backpack and quietly sliding down off the gurney. He slipped around to the opposite side of the curtain, trying to slide it aside, getting tangled before finally just lifting it up and ducking underneath. He crept into an unoccupied alcove, much like the one he was just in, and kept going, out the open curtain on the other side of the space. Believing he was out of immediate harm, he broke out into a mad dash, determined to get out and away from everyone in the hospital.

He nearly took down a nurse as he burst into the main throughway of the ER, calling out an apology as he kept running, not slowing down for shit. And, all right, he knew that speeding through a hospital probably made him appear suspicious, like he'd planted a bomb or escaped the metal ward, but he wasn't really interested in anything but getting out. Adrenaline and panic were fueling him, his entire body driven by a desperate desire to just gogo _go_.

Until he burst through the doorway and skidded into the waiting room.

The man in black was leaning against the wall, right next to the exit. The black marks on the side of his neck were visible like before, aviators still blocking half his face. But Kendall knew he was staring at him, had been waiting on him. He pushed away from the wall with tension in his shoulders, ready to spring into action. His fingers clenched into fists, muscles in his jaw ticking, long legs like coiled snakes prepared to burst into motion. But as tense as he was, as ready to fight as he looked, Kendall knew he wasn't in danger of getting his ass kicked.

At least not by present company.

Although now that Kendall thought about it, what the fuck was the guy even doing there in the first place? No fucking way was it a coincidence that he had been at the smaller male's street, outside his therapist's office, and now at the ER while he was getting checked out. Once was an occurrence, twice a coincidence, three times was a pattern.

Kendall had a stalker.

He panted heavily as he stood frozen a foot or so past the door, eyes wide while they took in the other male, his fear still prevalent in the forefront of his mind. The sudden reappearance of the man in black had freaked him out even more, doubling his desire to get out. His head snapped to the right, trying to find another way to escape. No such luck. To the left, the exit to the ambulance lot was visible several yards down a half-crowded hallway and he took off running without a second thought. He dodged bustling EMTs, frantic doctors, and a couple gurneys carrying new patients, ignoring the calls of those telling him that he shouldn't be down there, that he needed to go back to the waiting room, that he better stop running immediately.

The doors to the lot were open and he burst out into the afternoon sun, nearly colliding with a couple EMTs who were heading back to their ambulance, muttering out another apology before continuing his race toward the main parking lot.

His Vans slapped against the tarred ground, book bag hitting against his back, his breath sawing out in harsh pants, and he could feel the sweat dotting on his skin. He wasn't safe, not yet. At any moment Polo Shirt could realize where he'd gone and follow him, grab him, take him and... fuck only knew what, but it wasn't good.

Weird that he was more worried about the one he'd evaded without being noticed. The man in black had actually seen where he'd gone and posed a greater threat.

Whatever. He'd worry about that later.

He rounded the corner of the hospital, taking off across the parking lot, not entirely sure where he was going, but heading there fast. It wasn't until he saw a familiar face that he figured it out.

Although “saw” wasn't the right word. He'd nearly collided with her, too.

Kendall's hands flew out, grabbing hold of his foster mom's upper arms as he once again skidded to a halt, the strap of his backpack sliding down his arm and catching on his elbow.

“Whoa!” she cried out in shock, before worry took over, her blue eyes looking him up and down. “Kendall, what happened, what's wrong?”

“Nothing,” he wheezed out, forcing a small smile on his face, trying to convince her that he wasn't lying, that all really was well, and hey, they should leave, like, now.

“Are you okay? I heard about the accident at school. How's your arm?” She stepped back, taking hold of his arm and checking it for herself.

“Fine. See? No problems. Let's go.” His words were hurrying out of his mouth, like they were already in the parking lot and waiting for him to catch up. He put his hands on her shoulders, turning her around and gently nudging her in the direction she'd been walking from.

“Wait,” she objected, trying to stop him, digging her feet into the ground. “Shouldn't we talk to the doctor?”

“Already did.”

“And he said you're okay?”

“Yup.” It wasn't _really_ a lie, but the medical professional hadn't actually objected when the teen had said so. “S'all good, now let's go.” He kept pushing her, kept walking in the direction he hoped led to her car.

She was dubious as she looked up at him, flipping her red hair over her shoulder, glancing between him and the hospital doors. “What's the rush?”

The blond gave a quick glance behind him to make sure he hadn't been followed, that there were no strange men in polos or leather jackets or anything of the sort, before focusing in front of him once more, trying to pay attention to where he was walking. “Nothing. Just figured you'd wanna get back to work. I'm guessing you're on your lunch break or something and need to get back ASAP.”

She gave him a look that was pure skepticism but didn't say anything, probably figuring her facial expression was enough.

The two of them reached her car and she unlocked the sedan. Kendall immediately got in the passenger seat and locked his door before she even pulled hers open. His seat belt on, he sat there, leg bouncing impatiently, arms wrapped around his backpack, mentally demanding she hurry up, start the car, and get them the fuck outta there.

A few seconds turned into a few years, before the engine finally rumbled to life and the vehicle backed out of its spot, on its way towards the main road. But Kendall still couldn't relax, not fully. Now that his mind wasn't focused on getting out of the ER, it was churning over a million other questions. Why hadn't he been burned, despite his arm being on fire? And why hadn't he noticed it, yet felt the burning sensation on his back, far away from the flames? Why had the doctor just believed his bullshit and let him go without actually checking out the afflicted area with his own eyes? Why was the prepster after him and what the fuck did he mean by the map in Kendall's head?

But out of everything he was confused about, the one thing he was focused on was the man in black, who he was, and when Kendall would get to see him again.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The high school had let out for the day, meaning Kendall didn't need to return. Instead, his foster mom dropped him off at home, reminding him that Katie was spending the night with a friend—so he'd have the house to himself. The teenager just nodded in response, getting outta the car with a strange sense of relief. Good. She wasn't gonna be near him. Being in his vicinity could prove dangerous to say the least. Despite being pretty damn sure he'd gotten away from both the prepster and the man in black, he still didn't believe he was totally safe.

His eyes darted over to the corner where the man in black had been spotted. The guy clearly knew where Kendall lived. Kendall just had to hope that he wouldn't return. Again.

Waving goodbye to his foster mom, Kendall played it cool, lumbering inside with his usual nonchalance. Door shut, he felt his panic overtake him once more. Despite running into Polo Shirt in public places, the muscular male hadn't thought twice to threaten him, yet he'd been safe when his foster mom had shown up. But with her headed back to work, it meant that protection was gone and he was vulnerable once more.

His hands shook as he locked the door. As an afterthought, he slid the chain in place, too. That nagging voice in the back of his head told him it was useless. If they wanted to, they'd figure out a way to get inside anyway. He shook the thought off, refusing to listen to it, refusing to give in to the paranoia.

He hurried into the living room, peeking out the window, scanning for any sort of threatening men hanging around. The street was empty, the usual cars parked in their own driveways, causing him to let out a relieved sigh. He hadn't been followed. He was safe.

For the moment at least.

Shuffling over to the couch, he tossed his backpack onto it before flopping down, grabbing the remote and switching the TV on. He needed a distraction. He needed the mindless drone of mid-afternoon talk shows to quiet the bullshit going on in his head, to help him forget the burning, the hospital, everything.

The TV came to life, the picture forming, sound soon joining. A familiar movie was displayed on the screen, playing on whatever channel the TV had been left on the night before. _The Fantastic Four_.

And it just happened to be the scene where Johnny Storm was having a snowboarding race with a female nurse he'd flirted with, his speed causing fire to form on his shoulders, arms, and legs as he headed down the mountain, before he fully burst into flames and seemingly flew off a small cliff and crashed into a snowbank several yards away.

Right, not the distraction Kendall was hoping for.

He switched the television off, flopping over his knees, mentally exhausted. Maybe what happened to him had been a fluke. Maybe the flames had just barely touched his arm hair and that's why his skin hadn't burned. Maybe...

Maybe he was losing his mind. Maybe that's why he went into that supposed psychogenic fugue state and woke up near a fast food parking lot. Now shit was just now getting worse.

Fucking awesome.

Forcing himself to his feet, he turned and headed to the kitchen, considering another distraction of stuffing his face. Seemed as good a plan as any really. Rummaging through the cabinets, he soon decided there was nothing to eat, despite the cupboards being full, despite the fridge being stocked. He ended up in front of the open freezer, debating if he actually wanted to bother with the oven in order to cook some of those buffalo bite things.

The oven made him think of his arm. He decided he wasn't hungry

Straightening up, he focused on his forearm. His skin was completely unmarred. Even the fine hairs on his arm were unsinged. Which defeated his whole “maybe only the hair caught on fire” theory—and therefore his entire strain of denial.

His lips twisted in thought, brow furrowed in concentration as he ran his fingers over the back of his arm, feeling for any imperfections, any defects, any injuries of any form. But there were none. Perfectly normal, perfectly fine. Perfectly fucking weird.

Maybe he _was_ the Human Torch.

Nah. Storm could create fire himself, heat himself up from his core and cause flames to form on whatever part of his skin that he chose. Kendall could only survive being set aflame.

At least he did _once_.

An idea quickly formed in his head and before he knew it, he was rummaging through the junk drawer for a lighter. He quickly located it, smirking in victory as he bumped the drawer closed. His idea was idiotic and dangerous, but, hey, at least he was near a sink should anything go wrong.

Well, should anything _else_ go wrong.

He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, flicking the black lighter and bringing a flame to life. His eyes remained fixated on it, watching the fire waver and dance. A small tingle broke out over his back, over the mark up his spine and across his shoulder blades, the sensation so minor it was easily ignored. Anticipation made his pulse quicken and his chest constrict and he knew he needed to just get it over with. Without any further hesitation, he touched his left forefinger to the flame and pulled it away.

The flame stayed on the tip of his finger.

Kendall gaped at it, completely awed. He didn't feel a damn thing on his finger—no pain, no burning, nothing. But the tingle on his back was getting worse, more noticeable, harder to ignore. He did it anyway, pushed the feeling to the back of his mind, focusing on the flame before him as he put his right finger tip to it and set it aflame as well.

Flames danced on both fingers, staying lit, not burning. So he put a flame on the left middle finger, the right one, continuing the pattern before all eight fingers and two thumbs were on fire. Fire that he could see but not feel. Not in a pained sorta way at least.

And he _knew_ that he should be in agony, _knew_ that his hands should not have been capable of such feats. Yet he felt like his back was taking the blow, searing lines into his spine and shoulders, making it harder and harder to bear.

He inhaled shakily, breathing out slowly, watching the flames flicker, but not go out. With a trembling hand, he trailed his fingers along the back of his right forearm, observing four lines of flames forming on his skin.

Kendall lifted his forearm, holding it at eye-level, getting a better look at it. The heat on his face, the glow in his eyes, the way the mixture of orange, red, and blue danced on his arm—it was real fire, all right. Maybe he _was_ the Human Torch. If that was the case, maybe he could control the flames, make them bigger...

Worth a shot, right?

He concentrated on the flames with narrowed eyes, mind solely thinking of them getting bigger, of the fire growing. He imagined it happening, mentally picturing it, creative visualization and all that shit. Only it didn't happen the way he thought it would. Rather than the flames getting bigger, one big burst of fire flamed up, a ball of fire forming before dissipating immediately.

“Whoa!” He jumped back, arm flailing, the flames on his forearm and fingers going out. His heart hammered against his too tight chest, lungs hollow, muscles twitching and threatening to buckle. He felt shaky inside and out, noticing a slight tremor in his hands as he gawked down at them. Yeah, that hadn't worked out at _all_.

“What the—?” The front door banged loudly, and Kendall nearly jumped out of his apparently flame-retardant skin.

His head snapped around, frantically searching for any signs of what he'd just done. Counters were fine, sink, too. The ceiling wasn't burned after his fire ball—thankfully. And once again, his arms held no visual evidence of having been on fire. The only real clue that he'd been up to anything was the lighter he'd dropped earlier.

He quickly put it away before his eyes scanned his surroundings for a second time. A sudden burst of paranoia had him glancing out the window to make sure no one had witnessed what he'd done. Hard to explain to the neighbors what had happened when you weren't entirely sure of it yourself.

“Why is the chain on?!” Katie's voice was slightly muffled against the partially open door, confused and irritated with the situation at hand. Although, really, Katie wasn't even supposed to be home.

He shook his head, taking a deep breath to calm himself. With the same phony nonchalant gait he'd used to enter the house, he headed to the front hallway. He closed the door for only a moment as he unchained it from the wall, then pulled it open with a sigh to let the girl enter. Along with her pre-teen attitude.

“'Bout time,” she stated, dropping her book bag by the front door before heading to the kitchen. “Why was the chain on anyway?”

He followed her, watching as she opened the cabinet and pulled down a bag of pretzels. “Safety.” Well, he wasn't technically lying _here_. “Why are you home? Thought you were heading to that Sarah girl's place.”

“Sally,” she corrected, opening the fridge and grabbing a soda. “And she's sick. Thank _god_ , she's so weird. Dunno why Jennifer wants me to hang with her.” She paused for a brief moment, before see-sawing her head and continuing her ramble. “Okay, I do, but seriously, I'm fine not having friends, especially if it means I don't hafta hang around people who are always so happy and peppy and gee golly gosh, isn't life a barrel of rainbows?” Her voice got higher toward the end of her sentence in a false sense of cheer, phony grin on her face as she batted her eyelashes in a move that was pure sarcasm. Rolling her eyes, she made a gagging noise, sticking her finger in her open mouth. “Can't stand people like that. I mean, it's impossible to be _that_ giggly _all_ the time. I swear that chick's not human.”

Kendall inhaled sharply, spine stiffening. He knew the comment wasn't aimed at him, but for some reason, he still felt the sting of the insinuation that someone was anything other than human.

His reaction went unnoticed, thankfully, Katie more focused on popping open her soda and drinking. Turning to her foster brother, she quirked an eyebrow, making him think that maybe his unspoken response hadn't been as under the radar as he believed it to be. “Don't you have work?” Or not.

Work! He'd forgotten all about it! Kendall's head snapped to the left, checking the microwave for the time. Right. He needed to get ready and head out. Maybe bagging groceries and helping little old ladies to their cars would help clear his head.

Not to mention there was no chance of him catching on fire there.

At least he hoped there wasn't.

~*~*~*~*~*~

His shift at Sherwood's Grocery went by without incident, without anything out of the ordinary happening. Thank god. Kendall was able to shove aside all the bullshit of the past couple days and focus on the thoughtless actions his job required. Stocking shelves, gathering carts, bagging groceries and carrying them to various vehicles for various people. Really, the only out of the ordinary thing that happened was someone's bratty six-year-old knocking over a display and causing a soda explosion to cover parts of aisles three and four. Fun stuff.

But it was the kind of mindless monotony that he needed. A few drama-free hours and he was feeling human again, normal. He'd totally forgotten about fire-resistant skin, stalking brunets, and threatening prepsters, remembering instead what it was like to be just a normal teenager with normal teenage duties. And it felt _good_.

His job done for the day, he left the grocery store, waving goodbye to a co-worker as he walked over to the bike rack. His bicycle was the only one there and he crouched down, twisting the combination to unlock it, only to stop when an eerie sensation hit him. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and his heart rate picked up, a sense of unease washing over him. He twisted his head to look behind him, checking over both shoulders and not seeing anything, just his co-worker getting in his car.

Okay, seriously, the paranoid bullshit needed to stop immediately. He was getting fucking sick of all of it, of constantly worrying that something was out to get him and that his life was in danger at all times. He refused to live that way.

Shaking his head, he turned back to his bike, working on the second number on his lock. But, like before, he was stopped, an intense feeling of being watched hitting him, paralyzing him, making his breath halt in his throat and his heart to pound even harder.

“Hello again, Map.”

Shit.

Kendall didn't move, didn't even acknowledge Polo Shirt, keeping his eyes on his lock. He could hear steps behind him, the other male pacing over to his right, towering over him. Because apparently the dude wasn't intimidating enough when Kendall was at full height. A wave of terror hit the teen, the panic he'd been feeling increasing tenfold, and his mind was screaming at him to run once again.

Only he couldn't. The larger man was blocking his path.

“Sorry I missed you at the hospital,” the blue eyed one spoke, meandering back to Kendall's left. “Glad to hear your arm is okay though. It _was_ your arm, right?”

Kendall still didn't move, barely breathed, just stared at his lock, wondering if he could twist it to the final number so he could get the chain off and use it to defend himself. Probably not. The way things were going for him lately, his intentions would be discovered and halted. He was about ten levels of fucked at the moment.

Oh, his days were just getting more and more fun, weren't they?

“I'm sure it was quite a shock to _you_ though,” the muscular one continued. “Your arm catching on fire like that. And then you come out of it unharmed. Quite a miracle, wouldn't you say?” He sounded as though he was making polite conversation, yet there was a mocking lilt to his voice. Clearly he was aware of what happened and was amused at the other man's ignorance and surprise over the results. He was enjoying having something up on him, enjoying the advantage of knowing something Kendall didn't and using it against him in a way. It was obvious in the tone of his voice, the staccato in which he spoke, the smirk he was most likely sporting almost audible in his words.

Kendall swallowed hard, surreptitiously moving his fingers, trying to undo his lock anyway. He wasn't going down without a fight.

Only he never managed to get the final number lined up. Claws dug into the back of his neck, much like they had on his arm the day before. He yowled in pain as he felt them sink into his flesh.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you.” The words were growled out, the threat going unspoken. Not that it needed to be said. The stinging sensation on his neck was enough to let Kendall know that the other male wasn't fucking around. “You and I have a lot to discuss, starting with where the Key is.”

“I don't know anything about a key,” Kendall gasped out, shoulders hunched up, face scrunched in pain, eyes squeezed shut. He had no idea why this was happening; what the fuck was going on; what the guy was talking about. But the biggest question on his mind was why he wasn't being saved. Where the hell was—

Was who?

The claws dug in more, causing Kendall to cry out louder. His hand flew up to grab hold of the other male's wrist in an attempt to pull him away. But his habit of chewing on his nails clearly was his downfall, rendering him unable to dig in and cause any pain in return. Didn't stop him from trying though.

Polo Shirt leaned down, face alongside Kendall's. His lips curved into a sneer, features hard as he practically snarled in the teen's ear. “I think you do, Map. And I think it'd be best for you if you tell me what I wanna know. Maybe then I'll take it easy on you.” The pain in Kendall's neck grew and he tightened his grip around the large man's wrist.

Kendall knew there was no way he'd win, no way he could do any damage and get away unscathed, at least not without some major trickery. Deciding to bluff his way outta the situation and hope for the best, he gave in, gasping out a response.

“Okay,” he choked out, before swallowing hard. “Okay. I'll tell you. I'll tell you. Just lemme up.”

A growl sounded by his ear, pissed but curious enough to give him a chance. “Fine.” He straightened up, dragging Kendall up to his feet by the grip on his neck, the claws still digging into his skin.

Kendall didn't release the guy's wrist, claws still making their presence painfully known. He grunted, his jaw tightening as he was spun around to face the prepster. His feet planted, body no longer being jostled, he acted swiftly, right leg shooting up and kicking Polo Shirt right in the groin. Because, hey, it worked the first time. Why wouldn't it a second?

He whimpered in pain, curling into himself. Not wasting the opportunity, Kendall knocked his arm away before punching him in the face, hearing the crunch of bone against his fist. Another kick to the midsection and Kendall took off running across the parking lot, leaving his bike behind without a thought.

His feet slapped against the pavement, panting making his throat burn and his chest hurt, but he didn't stop, didn't slow down. It was the hospital all over again and he didn't even spare a second's thought to hope someone would show up much like his foster mom had. No way would he be that lucky, not again.

Then again, he'd been wrong before, too.

A black sports car pulled to a stop in front of him, passenger window rolling down, much like the day before. Only he knew it wouldn't be Jennifer behind the wheel. For starters, there was no way she'd even _consider_ driving a Camaro, much less show up to save his ass a third time in one. And when the driver leaned over, he found out how right he was.

It was the man in black, aviators and all.

“Get in the car,” he commanded.

The blond snapped his head behind him, seeing Polo Shirt in pursuit.

“No time to hesitate,” the driver pointed out. “Get in.”

“I don't thi—”

“ _Get in the fucking car, Kendall!_ ”

Well, when it was put that way...

He opened the passenger door, clambering into the sports car. And before he could even get the door shut, the man in black had slammed his foot on the gas and sped off, fishtailing it out the parking lot and onto the main road.

The car lurched from side to side as the driver straightened it out, jostling Kendall around. His shaky hands struggled to get a grip on the seat belt, yanking it hard and getting it caught. He grit his teeth as he mentally pleaded with the fabric strip to cooperate, head jerking back and forth between the seat belt and the windshield. Finally he was able to pull enough out in order to safely strap himself in, clipping it in place. He then scrambled for a grip to steady himself as the car swerved with another wide turn to the left, nearly crashing into an oncoming driver. “Watch it!”

“I got it,” he replied, calmly, not sounding like someone who'd narrowly avoided a major collision on a main road.

Kendall wasn't entirely sure about all that, tightening his grip as the car weaved in and out of traffic. He watched with wide eyes as a speed limit sign whizzed past him, almost ironic in its suggestion.

“Don't you think maybe you should slow down?” he suggested over the rumble of the engine, eyes still locked onto the windshield, terrified and doing his very best not to show it.

He was failing. Miserably.

“Yeah, _suuure_ ,” came the sarcastic response, the brunet shrugging in a mocking way. “Let's just _slow down_ and let the half-breed catch us. _Genius_ idea, Kendall.”

Surprise hit Kendall like the eighteen-wheeler truck they zoomed by, head jerking towards the stranger. “How do you know my name, anyway?”

The other male turned to him, the facial features that weren't covered by his aviators flat and expressionless. Kendall searched for his eyes behind the shadow of the sunglasses, trying to find something to hold onto and ground himself inside a car that was still tossing him about. “I know a lot more about you than you do. Which isn't saying much considering your memory loss. But still. I know you and I know every answer to every question you have. You just gotta trust me.”

And for some unknown reason, Kendall _did_ trust him. Despite the danger and the panic and the fear that was overtaking him, he also felt a strange sense of safety, a feeling that the man in black would protect him if the need arose. Kendall wasn't the one in danger anymore; but that couldn't be said about anyone who was a threat to him.

Letting out a long breath, he slumped down, releasing his death-grip on both the seat and the handle. He reminded himself that he was outta the danger zone—for the time being anyway—and that it was okay to be at ease now. Focusing on that thought, the tension eased from his body. Mentally, he repeated his new mantra, that he was safe, that there was no danger, that nothing was wrong.

Except they just missed the turn-off for his street.

Kendall turned to the brunet, full of unspoken questions and a prickle of unnerved rage. “Uh. This isn't the way to my house.”

“We're not going to your house.”

Okay, what?

His confusion grew, hand flying up to grab onto the handle as the man in black swerved in traffic again, narrowly avoiding another collision. “Why not?”

“Because Jett's tracking you,” he began, swerving back into the right lane, one glove covered hand on the stick shift, switching gears. “He's not gonna give up until he has you, meaning he'll follow you anywhere: work, school, _home_.” He turned his head and gave a pointed look before turning back to the windshield. “And he's not gonna give a shit about anyone else who gets in his way. Including your foster mom and sister.”

Kendall swallowed hard. While he didn't feel all that close to his foster family—or anyone really, since that inner-voice he had tended to keep his mouth shut and other people at arm's length—he still had an overwhelming desire to protect Katie at all costs, to take care of her, to keep her safe. And if keeping her away from danger meant he had to never return to that house, he'd do it.

Slumping down in his seat again, Kendall refocused his eyes outside, chewing absently on his thumbnail. They were leaving the suburbs behind, leaving the entire _city_ really, as the highway stretched ahead of them, out of town. A highway that seemed eerily familiar. Only he'd been heading in the opposite direction, on his way to the hospital.

He sat up straight again, staring at the passing trees, the wooded area whizzing by. Then he saw a familiar parking lot up ahead. His heart plummeted.

“Stop,” he requested, voice even, calm. “Stop.” The repeated word was louder, still not acknowledged, before he finally yelled it out. “ _Stop!_ ”

“What?!”

“Pull into the parking lot.”

“Why?”

“Just do it!”

The leather-clad one shook his head and Kendall had the feeling that the driver was rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses. But he still did as he was asked, slowing and pulling off the road. The car was still in motion when Kendall bailed out.

“Kendall!” The brakes squealed over the man in black's voice, but he ignored them both, bolting for the woods. But he wasn't trying to get away. He was trying to get _to_.

He avoided trees, fallen branches, exposed roots, panting, running, feeling out his destination rather than searching for it. He wouldn't know it through memory alone. He just knew that he'd know when he got there.

And wasn't that just confusing as fuck?

He slowed to a stop, feeling the leaves crunch under his sneakers, hearing the sounds of small rodents scurrying away. The sky was dark, the cover of trees not nearly as much as it had been six months ago, bare branches sticking out in every direction. But this was the spot. He just knew it.

Leaves crunched behind him, the sounds of his companion approaching. Neither said anything. Kendall peered around the area, trying to figure out why he'd stopped, why the spot was so important.

His latest therapy session came to mind, the memory brought up under hypnosis. It happened there. It had really, actually, truly happened.

But there was more to it than that. He'd been tackled, knocked down from behind. He'd been...

His head began to ache and his face scrunched up as he frowned in aggravation and confusion. He rubbed his forehead, stifling a groan, wishing he could remember.

“ _I know you and I know every answer to every question you have._ ” The stranger's words from the car echoed in his head and he turned to face him, face hard, serious, determined.

“What happened here?” he demanded to know, pointing to the ground with a trembling hand. “And why can't I remember any of it?” He felt completely overwhelmed, his mind spinning as he struggled to get a grip on what was happening. His stomach was in knots, a mix of anxiety and adrenaline, although he wasn't entirely sure if it was something left over from what happened there before or if it was a result of everything that had happened that day.

The man in black swallowed hard, slipping his aviators off his nose, allowing Kendall to see his whole face, see the way his features rearranged into an expression of pain, of hurt, of guilt, of a million different, horrible things.

Dread prickled at the back of his neck, a subconscious belief that he wasn't gonna like the answers he'd be given. But he needed them, needed to finally know what happened so he could start filling in the blanks in his head—and his life. “Tell me,” he begged in a shaky voice, eyes pleading with the man before him.

The stranger looked around, avoiding eye contact, as he put his hands on his hips. Finally, he looked at Kendall, met green eyes with his dark ones, letting him know he was serious.

“You died here, Kendall. You were killed.”


	2. Part Two.

“You died here, Kendall. You were killed.”

The words kept repeating in Kendall's head, like a broken record. He mentally agonized over every small detail of what had been said, how it was said, the heavy tone that had accompanied it, the serious face of the other male as he'd spoken those words. He had been telling the truth. Or at least the truth as far as he believed it.

Kendall shook his head, hands on either side of his skull, trying to snap himself out of it. No fucking way. Just... no fucking way. It wasn't real. It couldn't have happened. There was no chance in hell that he could have died, could have been killed, could have... could have had anything like that happening.

He realized he was muttering his thoughts out loud, as if voicing it would help him come to grips with it all, would make him actually believe that it wasn't the truth, that the other male was talking out his ass about some make-believe bullshit. But for whatever reason, Kendall was actually buying into it.

Dropping his hands to his sides, he looked up, green eyes analyzing the brunet standing only a couple feet away, scrutinizing every little detail. His dark brown hair was longer on top, styled upwards in a near fauxhawk of sorts. His skin was a rich sandy color, the kinda tan that came from a more natural source rather than a casket of UV lights or bottle of tinted lotion. The smooth flesh covered sharp cheekbones and a slender nose, features like a chiseled statue from Greek or Roman times. His jawline was strong, angular, one that belonged on the visage of a stereotypical action hero, leading to a square chin with a small, barely noticeable dimple in it. His lips were perfectly shaped, if not a little thin, the evidence of his teeth gnawing visible on the bottom one, most likely a nervous habit.

But it was his eyes that really caught Kendall's attention. They were hard beneath a drawn brow, forming wrinkles on otherwise flawless skin. The low lighting made it hard to tell exactly what color the irises were, but the emotions in them were clear: a mix of worry, discomfort, anxiety, and impatience. They were framed by long lashes that didn't belong on a guy, but somehow suited him perfectly. In a word, the male was beautiful, and that wasn't an adjective he had used on another guy. Ever.

As far as he knew anyway.

He continued his visual assessment of the stranger before him, the way the leather jacket lay over broad shoulders, the too tight t-shirt that clung to a flat chest. His hands were still on his hips, one slightly cocked out, body language seeming relaxed in a way. But further inspection showed that his fingers were in a white-knuckle grip, strained tendons visible on the back of his hands. A muscle was ticking on the side of his jaw as he clenched it and his nostrils flared as he tried to regulate his breathing. Beneath the calm exterior was a man who was ready to spring into action at any given moment, a man who was constantly on edge, his muscles tensed up, prepared to fight at a second's notice.

It was a fact Kendall knew to be true, only he wasn't entirely sure how he was aware of it. He figured he had to have known the guy from before his memory loss, the only explanation for the whole thing really. After all, why would he know he could trust the brunet, why would the stranger know his name? They had to have been friends of some kind, right?

Something tightened inside his chest, his heart missing a beat or two, pulling him out of his daze. It was almost like the thought of being _just_ friends with this unknown figure from his past hurt, emotionally anyway. Almost like...like he had wanted more...

His head dropped and he rubbed the center of his chest with the heel of his hand, acting as though it would help the pain go away. It didn't, but that didn't stop him from trying.

“Look,” the larger male started, causing Kendall to lift his head and look at him once more. “I promise I'll explain everything, but only after we leave. Every second we stay here is a second closer that Jett is getting to us.”

Kendall clenched his fists in anger as they dropped to his sides, hard green eyes focused on the male before him. For sixth months he'd had no clue who he was, his entire life before that point a big blank, and the whole time this guy had known everything. He'd clearly been an important person to him, someone who'd been there with him for who the hell knew how long, meaning he had information, clues, memories of Kendall's life that he himself didn't. Yet he hadn't even said a fucking word that even _hinted_ at what happened to him until that moment. While the younger male had been driving himself crazy, pushing himself through therapy sessions that made him uncomfortable, struggling to remember even the smallest thing, this asshole had been hanging around, practically stalking him, not once offering any assistance. And now there he was, demanding that Kendall just keep waiting, delaying giving answers of any kind.

Fuck. That.

Kendall shook his head, grinding his teeth. Fists still clenched, he folded his arms over his chest, stiffening his spine as he stood his ground. The other guy might've had more muscles, but he wasn't backing down, wasn't gonna be intimidated. He puffed out his chest in an attempt to make himself seem bigger, stronger, narrowed eyes glaring, jaw tightened so hard it hurt.

“No. No fucking way,” he spat out, venom dripping off his words, pointing an accusatory finger at his companion. “I'm not going anywhere, not until I get some answers.”

The brunet sighed harshly, head lolling back as he swore under his breath. He shut his eyes tight for a long moment, taking a few deep breaths, almost as though he was trying to calming himself down. He reopened his eyes and focused on his companion, jaw tense as he spoke. “We don't have time right now, but I promise I will answer any and all questions as soon as we get to the SafeHouse,” he spoke tightly, evenly, sounding like a stressed out parent trying to keep an even keel with their annoying stubborn brat of a kid.

Kendall raised a skeptical eyebrow, still not fully convinced that he should go along with what the stranger was saying. An internal debate had started up, his more logical side pointing out that this was how people were abducted, kidnapped, held prisoner for decades and tortured or turned into sex slaves—if they weren't just flat out killed anyway—and that the entire thing just seemed like the start of some horror flick. But the other, more intuitive part of him was saying that everything was okay, that he could trust the stranger, that he should just go along with him because the guy would never hurt him.

He let out a small sigh of his own, hand rubbing the back of his neck, torn between wanting to get answers and wanting to stay alive. He liked living.

“I always hate this fuckin' part,” the stranger muttered, talking more to himself than Kendall. Huffing, he turned his focus to the male in front of him. “Look at it this way, I could've killed you already, right?” he pointed out, holding his hands out before him with the palms up in a show of innocence and persuasion. “But I didn't. In fact, I saved you from getting your ass kicked by Jett three times in the past two days. You're welcome, by the way,” he wrapped up his statements in a snarky tone.

Kendall was confused for a moment before the realization hit him, washing over his features. The name had been brought up several times by the stranger, but it wasn't until then that the leaner male put two and two together: Jett was Polo Shirt, the modelesque monster that had been chasing him for days.

“Outside your therapist's office,” the leather-clad one continued, hands down at his sides as he slowly sauntered forward, moves all grace and power. “You kept looking at me, right? Kept waiting for me to save you. And right now, your gut is telling you that you can trust me and to just go along with whatever it is that I suggest because you know I'll take care of you and protect you, no matter what.”

Kendall felt lost all over again, his heartbeat a roar in his ears, stomach churning, skin tingling and heating up as his companion approached. Something in the back of his mind was telling him this was wrong, that he shouldn't be doing this, that he needed to back the fuck away before it was too late, but it was ignored, barely even heard. His mind was filled with fuzzy images of the brunet prowling towards him in a similar manner, but in a totally different situation, lust in his dark eyes, tongue licking his lips as he looked the more slender male up and down. It was soon followed by visions of the two of them naked in bed together, limbs tangled, sweat covering their bodies as moans filled the air around them. Arousal roared in his ears, his cock twitching in his pants, and he couldn't get rid of the pictures playing behind his eyes, despite his inner-voice telling him that he should let those kind of thoughts go.

He needed a recreation of what he was seeing in his mind right fucking now. Because as much as he wanted to think it was just his imagination—and teenage hormones—getting the best of him, he had a feeling it was more than that, that it'd been more memories—fuzzy as hell ones, but memories nonetheless—coming back to him.

The brunet stopped less than a foot a way, allowing Kendall to get an even better look at him. The same features he'd taken in before were there; the angular jaw, the high cheekbones, the slender lips. But now he could notice more details: the shade of stubble that had formed during the day across his jaw, the light dusting of freckles on his cheekbones, the way his bottom lip was more full than the top. He could make out the swirl of colors in his eyes, the mix of darks and lights, browns and greens blending together to create a whole new hue of its own. 

Yet amongst these flawless features, there were imperfections. Dark smudges under his eyes like he hadn't slept, a bruise on his jawline, a nearly healed cut above his lip, evidence of recent fighting. The smaller male wondered about this unknown person, about what kind of life he had, how it intersected with his own, if he was just as involved with whatever dangerous actions as the stranger seemed to be.

He had a feeling he had been.

Their eyes locked, and while Kendall felt like he was hyperventilating, the other male was perfectly calm, his breath even in his chest. With each inhale, he caught whiffs of the man's scent—bits of his cologne and the woods and something so particularly him that Kendall couldn't name it. The mixture of it all wasn't something he would normally come across, but as he breathed it in, he felt it rushing to his head, making him dizzy, high, his skin tingling and warming all over.

The brunet licked his lips, swallowing hard before he spoke. “Listen to your heart and trust me.”

The rumble of his voice hit Kendall square in the chest, sparking something inside he couldn't quite name. He fought the urge to reach out, to grab hold of the guy's jacket and pull him closer, instead clenching his fists by his sides.

“I don't even know you,” was his whispered response.

The stranger nodded as he dropped his head, focusing between their bodies as his hands moved. The blond felt fingers brush against his abdomen, the brief contact making his skin tingle, a shiver racing up his spine.

“The mark on your finger,” he started then paused. “It's burning right now, isn't it?”

Once again, the confusion the smaller male was feeling showed on his face, adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “Yeah,” he admitted shakily, wondering how the fuck the guy knew that. It wasn't like it glowed or gave away any other obvious inclination that it burned. Yet it was, the tattoo-like image had begun to tingle when he got in the car, worsening with every inch the other male closed between them, to the point where he had to rub it against his jeans in the hope of finding relief, getting none in return.

More nodding from the stranger as he raised his head, meeting green eyes with his dark ones. Holding his left hand up so the backs of his fingers were on display, he gave the smaller male a wry grin. “So is mine.”

Kendall's eyes widened as he took in the sight before him. On the brunet's ring finger, was a mark just like his: a crescent moon shape with a directional arrow crossing over it. Only his _was_ glowing, the red color it emitted a stark contrast to his tan skin.

He lifted his hand, looking at his own mark, shock hitting him for the second time in as many seconds as he saw it glowing in the same fashion as the other male's.

His eyes flipped up to the stranger's, face a mixture of the same puzzlement that had been plaguing him all evening and a determination to get some fucking answers. “Who are you?”

The brunet dropped his hand, point having been made. “I'm James.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Learning the stranger's name was enough to get Kendall to shut up and just go along with whatever it was the brunet wanted to do. He remembered calling the guy's name out in his therapy session, when things had started to make their way back into his mind. Definitely wasn't a coincidence. Adding in the fact that they both had the exact same mark in the exact same place and James' insistence that he could answer all of his questions, Kendall was left with little choice but to follow his gut and get back in the car with him.

He figured they had to have known each other before he'd lost his memory. That would explain the instinctual trust he felt for someone who, really, should've been a total stranger to him. Maybe the marks on their fingers were some sorta friendship tattoo, a bonding thing they had gone through together. Maybe they belonged to a gang.

Nah. One of the first things the cops had done after he'd been checked out at the hospital was run Kendall's tattoos through their gang database to see if they matched any known ink members got. No hits came up.

But even if they _weren't_ affiliated with a gang, they had clearly been up to something bad, given the fact that they were currently on the run from someone. Then there'd been the look of fear and worry on Jett's face when he realized James was on his way over, the growls that had come out of seemingly nowhere. No one looked that worried and concerned by the presence of another unless there was some sorta violent history there. And judging by the healing bruises and cuts on the leather-clad one's face, he'd definitely had a violent past, at least recently. He clearly wasn't afraid of getting into a fight, of kicking someone's ass if need be.

For some odd reason, the teen found that reassuring.

He sighed as he stared out the window, the roar of the engine and the rumble of the highway rolling quickly under the wheels the only sounds among the highway. Kendall was left scratching his head, trying for the umpteenth time to figure out what the fuck was going on, because it was obviously fucking major.

Only James refused to answer anything until the reached their destination. Shithead.

Turning his head to the driver, Kendall studied James' profile, the fierce focus in his eyes as he stared out the windshield. His aviators were hanging off the visor, no longer needed with the sun being down, allowing the blond to get a good look at his entire face. He had flashes of fuzzy memories, that face close to his, lips pressed together, bodies writhing in perfect rhythm. He shoved them all aside though, knowing it was neither the time nor the place for them, not to mention a voice in the back of his head telling him it was wrong to think of the relative stranger that way.

Not that he thought liking _men_ was wrong—just liking that man in particular. It was as though there was a blinking neon sign behind his eyes screaming _Do Not Touch_.

He told himself it was just because the guy looked like trouble. He had a feeling it was more than that.

He figured a distraction was in order. He thought for a long moment before he finally spoke, hoping he could get an answer to at least one of his question. “So where are we going?”

“I told you already,” the brunet replied, not taking his eyes off the road, still staring straight ahead. “The SafeHouse.”

Right. Not helpful in the slightest. “What SafeHouse?”

Dark eyes darted up to the rear view mirror before returning to the highway stretched out before them. “The one we set up for shit like this.”

No, that wasn't annoying at all. Kendall _loved_ being talked to like he actually knew what was going on, when he clearly fucking didn't.

Kendall's brow remained furrowed, the confusion still on his face. It was like the guy was deliberately being vague. He was giving non-answers that for whatever stupid reason he thought was supposed to explain shit and satiate the younger male's curiosity. No such luck for the driver.

“Who's _we_?”

James sighed, a hand sliding over his face. “I'll explain when we get there.”

The blond snorted, rolling his eyes as he turned to face the front. Arms folded over his chest, he glared out the windshield, jaw jutting out in aggravation. “Right,” he spat out, with a small laugh of disbelief. “I'm supposed to trust you. You, the guy that I don't even know. You're fucking joking, right?” He rolled his eyes, slumping in his seat.

The more muscular male finally turned to the smaller, face serious, eyes almost pleading to believe him. “You _do_ know me. You just don't remember.”

But Kendall still wasn't fully convinced, still wasn't ready to just give in and buy what this guy was selling. Lifting his head, he looked at James with a raised eyebrow, the question on his face as well as in his words. “ _How_ do you know me though?”

The driver turned back to the windshield, his face flat, giving nothing away. Which just further pissed the blond off. Shit wouldn't be so bad if he could just see some sort of little facial tick, some sort of flash in his eyes that gave away something, anything. But the guy was like a living, breathing statue, features perfectly formed and without any kind of expression.

“I've known you for a long time,” was all he said.

Green eyes drifted down to the brunet's left hand as it gripped the top of the steering wheel. His glove was back on, but the blond could still recall the mark on his ring finger, the crescent moon and directional arrow that had glowed when put on display. Tilting his head down, Kendall saw the same mark, the same glow on his own finger, in the exact same spot.

Theories of getting matching tattoos together came back, but somehow they felt wrong, felt like they weren't the whole story, that it was something bigger and more meaningful than “hey, we're best buddies. Let's get some ink together to show the whole world that we're bros.” But he couldn't for the life of him figure out why it meant so much.

He also couldn't figure out how or why it glowed. Regular ink didn't do that. Plus it only seemed to happen when he was around James, an event that had never occurred until the two of them were standing close in the woods not too long ago. And it wasn't like it was only a case of never having seen it do that, because he could feel it, too, could feel a small tingling warmth on the mark when it changed colors like that. It made him wonder if it was even a tattoo in the first place, or something more.

Whatever the case, it seemed like proof that they'd known each other before, that at least James was being honest about that, about having known the smaller male for a while.

Lifting his head, the blond looked at the driver once more, curiosity on his face, his voice small, weak almost. “Since before I lost my memory?”

“And the time before that,” the leather-clad one responded with a slight tilt to the head, his index finger raised off the steering wheel to point at an imaginary check mark in front of him. “And the time before that.”

Shit.

Dread pooled in the younger male's stomach, his arms wrapping around his waist to hold it all in, to stop himself from getting too freaked out, too panicky. He'd known it was a possibility, had heard his therapist talk about psychogenic fugue states—which was what they assumed his was—where the mind just couldn't handle something so it shut down and wiped its metaphorical slate clean, starting over, starting fresh. In a lotta cases, people had had their brains restart repeatedly, to the point where they couldn't even begin to go back and figure out what happened to cause their latest episode.

Then again, most people had someone there to help them figure everything out, to put the pieces together so they could deal with whatever it'd been that was too heavy for them to handle before. Kendall had no one.

Kendall glanced at James. Okay, maybe he _did_ have someone. Even if that someone wasn't being all that helpful at the moment.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he decided to push forward, hoping to get more info while the other male was still in the mood to give it. As little of it as it was, it was still better than nothing.

“So.” He paused, hesitant to ask, then doing so anyway, because he had to know. “This is a common occurrence for me?”

James' jaw tensed, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his grip on the steering wheel tightening, but his gaze never wavered from the windshield.

“More common than I like.” His volume was low, like he wasn't entirely happy about admitting that, but feeling the need to do it anyway.

Kendall's mind flashed back to moments before, the two of them in the woods, the brunet muttering about how he hated this part, the part where he had to convince the younger male to just go along with what he was saying, trust that it was the truth, and do whatever he was told. Annoyance hit him once more and he wondered if he'd ever get a grip on his emotions and not get pissed off so often. Although it seemed like a more recent occurrence and was mostly caused by James and his lack of help.

Which, now that he thought about it, he kinda had to give James some credit for dealing with a cranky amnesiac on a repeated basis. If his previous statements were anything to go by, this had happened before—possibly more than once—the brunet having to put up with his attitude when he'd done nothing wrong. It had to take a lot of caring, a lot of loyalty in order to go through this whole ordeal several times.

Although really, there was no need for him to be such a dick about it.

He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he slammed back against his seat. He was pouting; he knew it. He just didn't give a shit.

“Because you have to deal with me being memory-less and it's annoying.” He didn't bother trying to hide the pissy tone in his voice at the statement, didn't bother making it into a question because he knew it was true, and that just aggravated him even more. It wasn't like he _wanted_ to be an amnesiac, not like he was having fucking fun going through the past six months—and for the foreseeable future—with no clue who he was or where he'd come from or anything like that. And he sure as hell didn't want some asshole coming along and telling him what to do and saying all these things that he was just supposed to believe was the truth and was really who he was, when he had no freaking way of knowing if he was being lied to or not.

“ _Nooo_.” James spoke slowly, deliberately, his grip on the steering wheel and the stick shift tightening. It was like he was trying to keep himself together, struggling to keep his emotions in check. “Because seeing you die fucking sucks and it kills me inside every. Fucking. Time.”

Kendall's head snapped over, eyes wide as they took in the other male. His heart was pounding, stomach flipping, something in his head screaming that the confession was huge, although he had no clue why. Shoving that belief aside, he focused instead on one key phrase in the statement.

“What do you mean I die?”

James turned his head to the blond, brow wrinkled, lips twisted up in a questioning sneer. “Exactly what it sounds like,” he stated flatly before turning his attention back to the road.

The smaller male shook his head emphatically, denying the whole thing. His mind was buzzing with a million thoughts and emotions, the most prevalent being disbelief. The thought of his own death made his skin go cold and the back of his neck prickle in dread. But it was more than that. It was just completely impossible for that to have happened to him, not when he was sitting in that car holding a conversation.

“No,” he choked out, denying the whole thing. “No way. I couldn't have _died_. I'm still here, still breathing, still talking. If I died like you said, I'd be in a coffin or I'd be a pile of ashes in some urn somewhere.”

“You can't burn,” the driver stated, completely serious, grabbing hold of the teen's forearm. Kendall had no choice but to look at his own unmarred skin. James' obsidian eyes were all business, adding to the gravity of his words. “Remember?”

Kendall inhaled sharply, the air getting caught in his throat, eyes widening before the lids drooped. He nodded in a stupor, momentarily forgetting how to speak, but he wasn't entirely sure he agreed with the statement. His arm certainly _felt_ like it was burning where the other male's skin touched his and his mark was on absolute _fire_. It was by far hotter and more intense than when he had actual flames on his flesh.

Yeah. He could _definitely_ burn, just not in the traditional sense.

His eyes drifted from where they'd been focused on the other male's hand, up his arm, to his eyes. Only instead of seeing the usual near black color in them that he had come to expect over the past hour or so, they were... well, they were _glowing_ , for a lack of a better definition. There was something powerful in them, something that made his heart pound and his breath catch in the back of his throat.

It wasn't normal, wasn't right, and he knew they should stop, should pull away, should end whatever the hell was beginning between the two of them. Only he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he was thinking about how much he hated that they were in a car and that James was driving, since it meant he couldn't climb into the larger male's lap and smash their lips together the way he so desperately wanted to at that moment.

The entire thing only lasted a second, if that, before James released Kendall's arm in a flash, like he'd been burned—which the blond could totally understand, given his own reaction to the contact. The driver swallowed hard, all expression leaving his face as he turned to look out the windshield once again, his eyes returning to their normal espresso hue.

Kendall sat stunned for a long moment before he slowly turned and faced forward, too, confusion furrowing his brow, lips parted, taking in a shaky breath. He was vaguely aware that he was rubbing at the mark on his left ring finger, that the shapes on it had started burning just as much as his skin had where he was being touched, only the dull sensation didn't leave his finger.

Shit just kept getting weirder. Amnesia, strange tattoos, random guys following him around, talking about keys and death and all sorts of shit. And then there was the male driving the car, the male who he strangely and instinctively trusted, who had set his entire body blazing when he couldn't even feel actual fire dancing on his skin. Kendall felt like he couldn't handle any of this new information, but at the same time, he wanted more, wanted all the remaining blanks filled in, wanted all the questions in his mind to be answered.

Leaning back in his seat, he got comfortable, still rubbing his finger while staring out the windshield as he settled in for...for however long their ride was gonna be. He knew nothing else would get answered, could already tell James was stubborn as fuck and wouldn't give in to anything else he'd demand, meaning there was no point in asking anything until they got to where they were going. But even then, Kendall had no fucking clue where exactly he'd start in his quest to get answers. For the time being, he was just gonna have to be happy with what he had, regardless of how badly he wanted more.

~*~*~*~*~*~

They stayed on the highway for another hour, before James turned off at an exit, heading down a smaller one. Several exits, a few twists and turns, and suddenly they seemed to be in the middle of nowhere with nothing but dense forest surrounding them on both sides. Kendall felt his heart start pounding more with each passing mile, anticipation making his skin tingle and stomach flip. Or maybe that was hunger. Both?

Whatever the case, he kept his focus out the side window, watching the trees whiz by the Camaro, trying to see if anything was familiar at all. Hard to do when everything was a brown and green blur that was never clear enough for him to actually get a good _look_ at. But for some reason, he had a gut feeling that he knew _exactly_ where he was going, and not just because the driver had mentioned they were heading to “The SafeHouse”. Granted he couldn't give directions or tell which way to turn, but nevertheless, he had the distinct belief that he had been there before and would recognize things when he saw them.

_If_ he could see them.

The pitch black sky and the driver's inability to do the speed limit were making it pretty damn hard for anything to actually be looked at. Not to mention the guy didn't even have his high beams on, so how he could tell what was three feet in front of the engine was beyond Kendall.

The turn off seemed to pop up outta nowhere, a sudden break in the trees that the blond was surprised they hadn't zoomed right past. He figured James was just so used to going this way that he had his own instinctual feelings about where things were and how to get to them, since it seemed to be the only explanation for the miraculous way the driver had discovered the dirt road and managed to get his car on it without whizzing past it at the ridiculous speed they were going.

Rocks kicked at the bottom of the sports car, most likely doing some minor damage to the undercarriage, but if the brunet gave any sorta shit about the Camaro, he didn't show it. His face was as stoic as it had been all evening, not giving anything away as to his thoughts or emotions. Hell, the only real time Kendall had seen _any_ sorta reaction had been when the larger male had taken hold of his arm and his eyes had shifted colors. But even then, the blond had no clue what exactly that meant.

The dirt road went on for a couple miles, trees acting as a natural tunnel, branches reaching over the one-car path and shielding the vehicle from the sky above. Kendall moved his head around as he continued looking at his surroundings out the side window, examining it from as many angles as he could, all in the hopes of finding something familiar. He couldn't recognize anything, yet still had that same earlier feeling of having been there before. Deja vu was a strange thing indeed.

A break in the trees came upon them before Kendall could even see it, parting to reveal an unassuming log cabin, the dirt road seeming to wrap around it. The place looked small, nothing special, a porch out front with steps running along it, leading down to a dirt pathway that joined up with the road they were on. There was no grass to be found, although with it being late fall, chances were most of it would be dead anyway, but it didn't appear like any of it would be there even in the spring and summer.

James pulled up to the side of the cabin, putting the Camaro in park before killing the engine and taking the keys out the ignition. He didn't say a word as he got out the car, shutting his door with an enviable mix of anger and easiness, like he was on edge but still trying to make sure the vehicle didn't lose a part. Figuring he was supposed to follow, Kendall undid his seat belt before getting out, trailing after the brunet as he headed to the steps and up them, pausing at the front door.

The leather-clad one turned to the smaller male, frown on his face, keys in the pocket of his jacket. “Turn around.”

That had the blond's brow arching, not entirely sure why he needed to do that. Not to mention there was no fucking way it was gonna happen. The cabin was in the middle of the fucking woods, miles from anything resembling civilization, meaning the two of them were all alone. And while it was somewhat reassuring to know that Jett was nowhere to be found, it also meant that if James wanted to hurt him in some way, there was no one around to stop it from happening.

That little voice in the back of his head argued that fact, insisting that the larger male would never do anything to hurt him. After all, the two of them had been in the car together for over two and a half hours now, plenty time for the driver to do some sorta harm to the passenger. But he didn't. Kendall was still in one piece, physically the same as when he'd gotten into the Camaro. Well, other than the dull headache he felt forming, the stomach pangs from hunger, and the uncomfortable tightness that still existed in his pants.

But other than that, he was great.

“Kendall,” the brunet prompted, eyebrow raised in expectation. “Turn. Around.”

The blond let out a sigh, rolling his eyes as he did as directed. Folding his arms over his chest, he heard the sounds of mechanical whirring, of beeping, of... cracking and breaking? He shook his head, clearing his mind, convincing himself that he'd imagined the last part.

Something clicked, the blond hearing a loud shifting noise, as though a lock was sliding open. The brunet called out an “all right”, the smaller male taking it as a sign that he could turn back around. Not looking at him, the leather-clad male opened the door and stepped inside, flipping on the light as he went.

The interior was as simple as the exterior, most of the cabin open space, with a separate room in the back right corner, door leading to the outside next to it. The back left was the open kitchen, a dining area directly in front of it. To the right was the living area, two couches forming an “L” shape, flatscreen TV on the front wall, a fireplace along the side one. A few throw rugs littered the floor, nothing too expensive or fancy, the furniture all what would be described as “shabby chic” or “bought at a thrift store because it's our first place and we can't afford anything new”. Given the lack of art or any sorta personal paraphernalia, the blond figured it was the second.

Kendall closed the front door behind himself, hearing the lock slide into place automatically. Turning around, he didn't see anything outta place, figuring the locking mechanism had to be hidden inside the wood itself. His bottom lip stuck out in an impressed pout, appreciating the cleverness in making the place still look like an authentic cabin by covering up the more advanced technological aspects of the building.

“I gotta make a phone call,” James stated, catching the blond's attention. The younger male turned to see the elder removing his jacket, tossing it onto the back of the couch that ran alongside them, the heavy fabric landing with a quiet thud. “I'm sure you probably wanna shower.”

The smaller male shoved a hand through his hair, scratching his scalp along the way. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted one, but it actually sounded like a good idea to a degree. Getting away from the other male would probably help out a lot, get rid of the random flashes of x-rated images he wasn't entirely sure were his imagination—and ones that definitely were—allow him some relief, to stop himself from staring at the brunet in order to figure out exactly what they were to each other, and what he wanted them to be at that moment. Being in that car with him for so long had become increasingly frustrating, the larger male's scent filling his nose, the memory of a warm hand on his arm causing his skin to tingle all over, not to mention the mark on his finger had burned the entire ride. Would be nice to get a reprieve, to clear his mind—and nose—from all things James and gather his thoughts, figure out exactly what it was that he wanted to ask and how to ask it.

Then again, maybe he kinda did wanna shower. The day had been extremely long, full of non-burning skin, unnecessary hospital trips, threatening pretty boys, and work at a grocery store. Washing the past twelve hours away was a tempting idea.

Dropping his hand, he let them hang by his side, muttering out a “sure” before heading towards the side room, assuming the bathroom was in there.

“Spare clothes in the drawers,” James called after him, causing the blond to pause in the doorway, turning towards him. Only the brunet wasn't looking at him; he was focused on pulling his iPhone out his pocket and unlocking it with a thumb slide across the screen. Out of the corner of his eye, the smaller male noticed more black marks going up the insides of both of the larger's forearms, but he didn't focus on them too much, his mind weary and too drained to figure anything else out. “The bottom two.”

More nodding from Kendall, despite the fact that the action went unnoticed by the other male, before he headed into the room, switching on the light as he went. Ignoring the furniture and décor, he continued through the space, towards a closed door on the left. He shut himself inside the bathroom, glad for the time to be alone and the space to get his head together. Was this really his life? Was he seriously on the run from... shit, he had no clue what he was running from, assuming he was even running.

He was in a safehouse. He was definitely running.

Still no clue what he was running _from_ though, other than the possibility that it was Polo Shirt from outside his therapist's office—and the hospital and Sherwood's Grocery—the guy that James had referred to as “Jett”. A half-breed, whatever the fuck that was.

Scrubbing his face with his hands, he shoved all thoughts away, deciding to just focus on the mindless actions of getting clean, flipping the shower on. He had a feeling he'd be dropped in more shit than he could handle once he got out.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The quick shower proved to be the sorta mindless monotony Kendall needed at that moment. He was able to shut his brain down, to ignore any and all thought processes and just go through the automated motions of washing and scrubbing.

Shoving open the plastic curtain, he got out the shower, careful not to stub any toes on the bottom lip, stepping onto the mat rather than the wood floor. A neat stack of towels was located on the nearby counter and he grabbed the top one, using it to dry off his body in quick, rough motions before draping it over his head. He rubbed at his hair, trying to soak up some of the water still clinging to the strands as he checked out the bathroom. The counter was relatively clean, nothing out of the ordinary there: an empty glass, presumably for rinsing mouths out; a soap dispenser that matched the décor of the bathroom; the accompanying toothbrush holder, complete with two toothbrushes.

That had Kendall's brow furrowing.

Fucking eh, seemed like _everything_ was confusing him these days.

But seriously, if this place was a safehouse as it'd been referred to, chances were there wouldn't be any toothbrushes set out, much less two unwrapped ones that looked like they'd been used given the excess toothpaste still left on the green one.

Kinda looked like Kendall's one back at his foster home.

Shaking his head, he pushed aside thoughts of the toothbrushes, instead focusing on wrapping the towel around his waist and tucking the end in so it wouldn't fall. He set about trying to find something to brush his hair with, tugging at the corner of the mirror above the sink and opening up a hidden medicine cabinet, one full of a whole lotta first aid supplies, mostly of the bandage and gauze variety. A few small white jars were in there, ones that resembled the set used to hold spices back at his foster home and he took one out, lifting open the lid and sniffing its contents. It didn't smell too familiar, but then again, cooking wasn't really something he did. Unless it involved a microwave or super basic oven instructions that were on the box.

Shrugging, he put the lid back on and returned the jar to its previous location, resuming his search for a comb. Two sat on the bottom shelf, along with refills for a disposal razor, a pair of tweezers, and nail scissors. Instincts told him not to touch the black one, so instead he reached for the dark green comb, seeing the letter “K” carved into the handle.

Weirder and weirder.

Closing the cabinet door, he worked on getting the knots outta his hair, brushing the strands so they laid across his head in his usual side-swept style. Figuring that was as good as he was gonna get—or as good as he was willing to put the effort into getting—he put the comb back, closed the mirrored door once more, then left the bathroom.

James was still out in the main part of the cabin, presumably on the phone judging by the fact that his voice was traveling through the open doorway, making promises to “explain all that shit later” to whomever it was that he'd called. Kendall tried to ignore it, setting about on his next task of locating clothes, but his curiosity got the better of him, his mind wondering who exactly the brunet was talking to and what he needed to explain.

His paranoid side thought it was him.

His logical side _knew_ it was him.

Letting out a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair, feeling the slight dampness of the water that still clung to the strands. Remembering what the other male had said before his shower, he looked around for a set of drawers, finding a low bureau along the wall next to the bathroom door.

A low bureau with several different items on top.

Curiosity taking over his brain once more, Kendall stepped over, inspecting the various things on top of the wooden furniture. On the left were countless bottles with the word “Cuda” on it, a men's toiletries company he recognized from stocking the shelves at Sherwood's, the same scent seeming to be on each one. A hand-held mirror was laying in front of them, the blond getting the feeling it wasn't used by himself, that none of those things were.

His eyes drifted to the right side, coming across a stack of worn-out magazines of various topics from music to hockey, a plaid shirt laying across them, as though it'd been carelessly tossed there and forgotten about. Lifting up the soft fabric, he put it to his nose, smelling a familiar scent on it. His own.

But it was the items in the middle of the bureau that really caught his attention, that really got his head buzzing and his mind whirring. Chucking the shirt back where it'd been, he inspected the framed photographs that were sitting there, sensing a pattern. All four contained photos of himself and James, all four were in poses that spoke less of friends and more of lovers.

His fuzzy mental images had been right. Those weren't fantasies; they truly had been memories.

Kendall picked up one of the frames, getting a closer look. All the pictures looked like one of them had taken the shot, with arms around each other and smiles on their faces. But this one in particular seemed to be the most intimate, the most telling. The brunet appeared to be the one holding the camera, the blond clueless as his eyes were closed, face a mix of passion and need, as his lips were pressed to the other male's. And the larger male's features looked exactly the same, held the same emotions, but his open eyes showed a whole lot more, showed love, compassion, a need to be close to the smaller male in all ways, a need to keep him around and never let him go.

Putting the frame down, Kendall ran a hand through his hair, puffing up his cheeks before blowing the air out. He had no clue what to think about that, no clue exactly what emotion was trying to take over. He felt like an intruder in someone else's home, like he wasn't supposed to be there, like he was invading upon a life that someone else was living. But at the same time, seeing those pictures, seeing the closeness he shared with the other male, it felt right, like it all made sense, like he wasn't crazy or just randomly hard up over this guy—although it was understandable, given how incredibly fucking good looking he was—but that there'd been something between them, something that was more than just knowing each other.

They'd been in love.

He rubbed a fist between his bare pecs, the light dusting of hair tickling the side of his hand. His chest felt tight as the belief that he had deep feelings for the other male settled in, taking root and grabbing hold of his heart in a vice-like grip that he was sure he'd never be able to get rid of, no matter how hard he tried. _If_ he even wanted to try in the first place.

He thought back to his car ride with the other male, to the images that had flashed in his mind, the images he was now fully convinced were memories of the two of them moving together in the most basic and primitive way possible as they showed each other how much they cared about the other person. He remembered the driver's confession of how seeing the blond being killed had killed him inside, had metaphorically caused him to die, too. The only reason that would happen would be because he cared about the younger male, didn't want to lose him, to let him go, that it hurt to see the one he loved in pain. It was the only explanation Kendall could think up at that moment.

His head turned to the door, the other male's voice drifting into the bedroom once more, boots scuffing against the wood floor as he paced about the living room. Deep down he knew those feelings probably still resided for himself, that instinctively he knew he was in love with the brunet, that he could trust him and believe in him. It was why he never got scared when he saw the leather-clad one on his street, why he turned to him in the coffee shop to save him from Jett, why he got in the car with him and just went along with whatever it was the larger male said. But feelings and instincts aside, James was still relatively a stranger to Kendall, a stranger he still wasn't entirely sure he wanted to get to know, not if it meant more questions than answers.

A heavy sigh escaped the teen before he crouched down, opening a long drawer at the bottom of the bureau. Jeans were located inside to the right, a jumbled mess that spoke to the owner not caring much about organization and just shoving them inside. Much like his drawers at the foster home. Refusing to think on that too much, he pulled out the first pair he could get, tossing them behind himself so they landed on the bed before looking at the left side of the drawer, finding a mess of plaid flannel. Deciding he didn't need one right now, he slid the drawer closed then opened the next one up.

Socks and undies were kept inside, along with a mess of plain white tees. He grabbed one of each before standing up, dumping his clothing onto the bed. Towel pulled off and thrown into the bathroom without care, he set about getting dressed, vaguely wondering why he was putting actual clothes on. Then again, he hadn't found any PJs in there, meaning his old self had probably just slept in his boxers, too. Old habits really _did_ die hard.

He decided to forgo the socks, chucking them over onto the bureau, accidentally causing one of the frames to slide back an inch or two. Part of him wanted to race over and fix it, to make sure that he didn't disturb anything there any more than he already had, lest the owners realize someone had been in their place and messed with their shit, only to remember that he was allowed to be there, that he'd been there before.

A lot, judging by the photos.

Tearing his eyes away from the frames, he settled the green orbs on the double-bed, taking in the plain green sheets and matching pillowcases, the comforter that completed the set rolled up at the end of it. Seemed to make sense, since he didn't really use one back at the foster house, getting too hot at night to be able to comfortably sleep with anything thicker than a sheet over him, and even then it was usually only up to his waist.

He rounded the end of the bed, heading to the side furthest from the door, the side he usually slept on in his own bed. Windows were lined along the wall, high up, giving a view of trees, trees, and more trees. A passing thought about how the sliding glass was locked hit him, but he figured it was just an assumption made based on the fact that the front door had been so heavily fortified, so it would only make sense that the rest of the place be the same way.

Plus, the term “SafeHouse” kinda made it a duh thing.

Walking over to the nightstand, he picked up another magazine, this one opened, the pages folded back to show the article someone had been reading, a bio piece on a member of the Minnesota Wild from the looks of it. His eyes skimmed over the page before tossing it back where it'd been, checking out the rest of the items on top of the nightstand. A lamp sat there, untouched, dust free, the realization of which made his brow furrow once more. The place had obviously been cleaned, had been kept up with, yet there were still clothes laying on the bureau, on the chair in the corner. The drawers he'd been in were an unorganized mess. A magazine was on the nightstand left open and placed the exact way someone would when done reading for the night and just putting it on the piece of furniture for the time being.

Weird.

Shaking the thought away, he refocused on the nightstand, seeing yet another framed photo, this one of himself and James, just like all the others. Picking it up, he looked at it closer, inspecting the image held within the frame. He seemed to be the one snapping this shot, his aim a little off and the two of them off-center. But it didn't matter; the main point of the picture still visible: Kendall kissing James' cheek and the brunet smiling widely.

Definitely more than friends.

Footsteps sounded out on the hardwood floor, Kendall lifting his eyes to see James stopping in the doorway, resting his right side against the frame, arms folded over his broad chest. Even at rest, he seemed dangerous, deadly, despite the fact that his jacket and gloves were gone. The blond figured it was the tenseness in the brunet's body, the way his muscles still held that tight look they'd had earlier, like he was expecting a fight at any moment and was always prepared for it.

The smaller male had a sickening feeling that the larger was probably right to be that way.

Dismissing the paranoid thought, he focused instead on the male himself, on the burgundy of his t-shirt and the darkness of his tight jeans. He analyzed those facial features he'd studied in the photos, seeing the differences, the bags his eyes now held, not to mention the darker shade in them. The pictures showed a carefree man, one who was happy, one who appeared to not have a worry in the world, light and love shining from eyes that were a mix of brown and green. But the man in front of him was a man who seemed like he'd aged years in however long they'd been apart, a man with worry on his face and a lot on his shoulders.

Guess his phone call hadn't gone too well then.

Kendall's eyes drifted down to the photograph still in his hand, the one in a plain black frame that seemed to work, allowing the picture itself to be the focus, as it should be. Between the pictures, the toiletries, the magazines, and the clothing, all of it spoke more towards an actual residence, a place someone actually lived in, rather than just stopped by and temporarily stayed at when in need of a hide-out.

Eyes turning back to the male still in the doorway, he held the frame up so the brunet could view the picture contained within, not bothering to hide the skepticism from his voice as he spoke. “Safehouse, huh?”

James actually looked a little sheepish, like he'd been busted, wincing as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he answered, dropping his hand and refolding his arms as he continued. “But you and I lived here for a while before. Before you, uh—” The wince got worse, this time seeming to be more in pain rather than in a “shit, I've been caught in a lie” look.

“Died,” Kendall put bluntly, still not fully buying it, rolling his eyes as he turned to put the frame back where it'd been.

The brunet pushed away from the frame, dropping his arms, stare intense as he looked at the other male in the room. “Look, I get that you don't believe me, but I have _never_ lied to you. Not once.” He put his hand on his chest, between his pecs for emphasis, his tone serious and seeming to be speaking the truth. Or the truth as he believed it to be, anyway.

Another eye roll, the blond jutting out his jaw in annoyance as he crossed his arms, sticking his hip out. “No, you just hide the truth from me until it's convenient for you to say it, right?” He raised his eyebrows in expectation, daring the larger male to deny it, knowing he couldn't.

A heavy sigh left the elder male, his head turning as he looked around the room at everything but the blond, as though he could find the right response written on the walls or the furniture or the floor. Deciding his next line wasn't hidden somewhere, he finally locked eyes with the teen, his face back to that earlier serious expression that showed he wasn't bullshitting around. “How'd you get your name?”

His brow furrowed at that, wondering what the fuck that had to do with anything, where that inquiry had come from. “What?”

“Your name,” James repeated, sliding his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. “How'd you come up with it?”

“I dunno,” Kendall answered with a shrug and a shake of the head. He rubbed the back of it, flattening the long hair there, thinking back to when he'd woken up in the hospital, when they'd asked his name, when his doc had decided the confused teen didn't look like a 'John Doe' and had done something to change that. “It was in a book they gave me,” he answered, holding his hand out in display before folding his arms back. “I picked it out.”

“Why that one?”

Another shrug, another shake of the head. “'Cause it felt right.”

“And 'cause it sorta sounds like 'kindle', huh?” The brunet raised his eyebrows, wordlessly telling the blond that his answer was 'yes' and that he knew it and there was nothing the younger male could say that would change that fact.

Only that wasn't what the teen replied with, his brow furrowing as confusion came to the forefront of his mind yet again. “What're you talking about?”

James leaned against the door frame, right ankle crossed over the left, arms folded over his chest in a relaxed manner. “What do you know about Phoenixes?”

Dropping his arms, Kendall felt his mind spinning, his entire being unable to keep up with the countless subject changes and random questions. Rubbing his forehead, he tried to think of the creatures he'd been asked about, tried to shove aside any thoughts of what the fuck that had to do with anything, himself in particular.

“They're birds that die in fires then come back to life,” he spoke the only knowledge he had about Phoenixes, shoving both hands in the back pockets of his jeans.

The brunet shrugged, lips turned down in a 'meh' kinda expression as his head see-sawed. “Close enough.”

“What the fuck does this have to do with anything?” the blond questioned in an annoyed tone of voice, eyebrow raised, shoulders hunched in an aggressive manner. Something was buzzing in the back of his head, a thought, a feeling like he should know the answer, should know why he was being asked all these questions. He should understand the reference to “kindle” and how it was used to start fires. He should get why he was asked about Phoenixes. He should know why he had chosen that name, out of the hundreds in that name book he'd been given.

Only he'd be damned if he could actually bring the knowledge to the front of his mind where he could actually see it and use it.

James' eyes locked onto his, his face serious, hard, not fucking around. A lump formed in Kendall's throat, worry pooling in his stomach, and he briefly wondered if it was too late to back out, to ask that the brunet take him back home and never talk to him again so he could pretend this entire thing never happened.

Only he couldn't do that. Jett was still out there, still after him, and returning to the foster home would not only put himself out there to be hurt, but he'd also be endangering Katie and Jennifer. And despite the amnesia, despite the belief that he'd been through the memory loss before, he had a feeling that he wasn't gonna forget any of this, especially not James.

Unable to tear his gaze away, he focused on the brunet, on every syllable he said and the serious tone it was spoken in that gave no room for questioning.

“You're a Phoenix, Kendall,” he stated plainly, gravely, zero bullshit to be found. “Every time you're killed, your body bursts into flames and you regenerate. Downside is that you completely lose every memory that you had before.”

Kendall stood there, stunned, staring at the elder with his arms dangling by his sides. The words were echoing in his head, just like when they'd been in the woods outside White Castle when the brunet had informed him that he'd been killed there. Kendall wanted to not believe it, wanted to laugh, to tell the other guy that he was clearly off his nut and were his meds hidden somewhere in the cabin because he clearly needed them. He wanted to shake his head, to argue, to roll his eyes and go into great detail about how much bullshit that information clearly reeked of.

But he couldn't.

Because deep down in his gut, he knew it was true.

“Think about it,” the muscular one started after a long, silent moment, straightening back into a standing position. “The fact that you can survive being burned, how I told you earlier that you were killed, yet there you are, living and breathing like nothing happened.” He paused, shrugging, arms folded over his chest once more. “It's because of what you are.”

Kendall nodded dumbly, letting all of the other male's words sink in, as he turned and sank his body onto the bed. A Phoenix. Some sorta weird creature that he'd believed to have been nothing more than mythology. But it made sense, in a fucked up sorta way.

Shit, he was losing his mind.

Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes as he suppressed a frustrated groan. He'd obviously been so desperate for answers that he'd believe any bullshit someone tried to feed him, no matter how outlandish and insane they sounded. And he was buying it hook, line, and sinker.

“Cops never found out anything regarding your markings, did they?”

Kendall lifted his head, turning it towards the other male who was still in the doorway, eyebrow cocked. “What?”

“The markings you have,” he repeated, nodding towards the blond with his chin. “I'm sure they ran them through their database, see if you belonged to a gang or if they matched any ink of any missing person.”

The eyebrow stayed raised as he let out a “yeah?”, not entirely sure where he was going with that.

“That's 'cause cops don't know about 'em. And the ones that do, keep that shit secret.”

“Why?”

James rolled not just his eyes, but his entire head, seeming to be in disbelief that the other male would ask such a stupid fucking question. “No one can know what we are,” he pointed out, hand on his chest to gesture to himself. “If anyone found out, we'd be locked up in some government lab getting sliced open a la Roswell and Area 51.”

The blond turned, still seated, leg folded as it lay flat on the bed, facing the larger male better. “So, you're a Phoenix, too?” he questioned, pointing to his conversation partner.

Shaking his head, the brunet shifted his feet, getting more comfortable in his standing position. The younger male wanted to ask him to sit on the bed, to rest up and just relax, but had a feeling the request would be denied anyway. Probably for the best, considering how he'd been ready to climb on the guy's lap and shove his tongue down the other male's throat while they were driving. Who the fuck knew what he'd try when they were actually stationary and in bed, allowing him the opportunity to do what he wanted without the risk of them crashing and dying.

Which he apparently couldn't die anyway, but that was beside the point.

Turning, he stretched his legs out before him on the bed, settling back against the headboard. His eyes focused on the other male, waiting for a further explanation, not getting any. Knowing nothing was coming, he decided that restarting the conversation and keeping it going was up to him. And now that they had reached their destination, it clearly meant that James was gonna answer any questions he asked, just as he kept saying he would when they were in the car.

Kendall looked down at his lap, his hands resting there, his eyes focusing more on the compass-like tattoo on the inside of his left forearm. Recalling the brunet's previous statement about his markings, he assumed there was some sorta significance with them, that they were more than just skin art, more than just an adornment he added for reasons he'd forgotten about.

Looking back at the other male in the room, he furrowed his brow in curiosity and seriousness. “Why do I have these markings?” he questioned, rubbing the inside of his forearm absently. “What do they mean?”

James' own hand reached up to his neck, covering the marks on the left side, the marks the blond still hadn't gotten a good look at. “They define us, identify us,” he answered before dropping his hand, hooking his thumbs in his pockets. “The one on your back marks you as a Phoenix, that's why it almost looks like wings or like tribal fire. Your forearm—” he pointed to where the younger male was still rubbing at the circle with its triangle and runes. “Means you're a Map.”

“Jett called me that,” the smaller male remembered, moving his hand to gesture in the air, like it'd help him explain or further recall the details. “I had no idea what the fuck he was talking about, but outside my therapist's and then at the grocery store, he referred to me by those names. Then at the hospital, he mentioned torturing the map outta my head, which was when I bolted.”

“Shit.” The swear was breathed out as the elder male turned around, smearing a hand over his face as he walked over towards the nightstand sitting on the opposite side of the bed from the blond. His body language was tense again, eyes dark and narrowed. Reaching the wall, he turned and paced the other way, hand now rubbing the back of his neck and covering the mark on the side of it.

Kendall drew his legs up, knees bent, arms wrapped loosely around them as he watched the other male pace back and forth, seeming to be figuring something out, thinking something over. He knew it'd be better to just keep his mouth shut and not chime in, that it'd be more helpful to just be quiet, so he did, waiting on pins and needles for the continuation of their conversation.

James finally quit his pacing after half a dozen passes, stopping at the end of the bed. Turning towards the younger male, he folded his arms over his chest, feet firmly planted shoulder length apart. The teen was kinda bummed the brunet didn't still have his leather jacket and aviators on. Would've completed the club bouncer look he had going on at that moment.

“You wouldn't happen to know what exactly you're a map for, would you?” he questioned, his tone a slightly hopeful one, but almost sounding as though he was trying to hide it, trying not to let his wishful thinking get to be too much or too obvious.

The younger male shook his head, rubbing the back of it, brow furrowed as he thought long and hard. His mind flashed back to the tense and uncomfortable moments outside Dr. Wainwright's office, the conversation he'd had with Jett, the words the other male had used. Lifting his head, he looked at the brunet in the room with him as he responded.

“He mentioned something about a Key of somethingorother,” he informed the other male with a shrug and a head shake, physically showing that he had no clue what key or why it was important.

The elder male cocked an eyebrow, before raising both in an _okay then_ manner. A heavy sigh left him, his shoulders slumping, fatigue taking over his body language. Rubbing the back of his neck roughly, he then let both arms hang by his sides as he spoke. “It's been a long day, so let's just call it a night, all right? Any more questions can be handled tomorrow.” His voice was quiet, low, tiredness leaking into his words.

Kendall nodded, sleepiness making itself known. Getting some shut eye sounded like a damn good idea, but at the same time, there was still something he needed to know. “How long are we staying here?”

“Probably not long. I called Rocque, but he's kinda pissed at me.” He ended the statement with a shrug that spoke of a lack of caring over upsetting the mentioned male and a history of that very thing happening often. Which probably led to the lack of caring. “But we're here for at least the night,” he concluded, arms over his chest.

More nodding from the blond as he took that in, figuring they'd be sharing the bed, which just led to earlier thoughts and memories of the two of them in a lot less clothing, wearing nothing but sweat and each other. His skin started tingling, his heart pounding and his blood boiling, arousal roaring to life as his dick twitched in his pants once more.

James' breath hitched in his throat, his eyes glowing like before, body tensing even more. He cleared his throat, pointing behind him towards the door with his thumb. “Yeah. So. I'll be on the couch, you can—”

“Wait, what?” Kendall interrupted, confusion taking over for the five millionth time that day. “What's wrong with the bed?”

“You'll be in it.”

The blond cocked an eyebrow, still not seeing the issue. “So? Judging by the photos around here, it wouldn't be the first time we shared a bed.”

A harsh sigh escaped the brunet, his face looking weary, worn down, like he was too tired for this argument and really just wanted to get out the room ASAP. “It's just not a good idea, Kendall,” he stated lowly, sounding defeated, almost like he didn't wanna say it but had to. Without another word, he turned and left the bedroom, closing the door behind himself.

Kendall didn't move, only stared after the other male, eyes locked onto the door as though he could see through it. He heard the sounds of footsteps on the wooden floor, of fabric shuffling and moving around, of the creaking of the couch as someone got settled on it. A harsh exhale came from the living room, driving the point home: Kendall was sleeping alone.

Forcing himself up, he stripped down to his boxers, before lightly stepping over to the door. The sounds of breathing was barely heard through the wood, James down for the night, trying to fall asleep on the couch. Letting out a sigh of his own, the blond switched off the light before shuffling around the end of the bed, getting under the sheet on the side closer to the windows. He punched the pillow a couple times to fluff it, fiddled with the sheet, tossed and turned more than he had in a while, a restless feeling taking over him. It just didn't make sense that the two of them were sleeping separately, not after...

He frowned, lips twisting. After what? After he'd found a couple pictures of them together acting couple-y? After some fuzzy mental images he'd convinced himself were memories? For all he knew, the photos were a cover and his imagination was terrible at creating fantasies.

Letting out yet another sigh, he laid on his side, facing the door as he closed his eyes, wishing the bed wasn't so empty and that James wasn't so stubborn.

~*~*~*~*~*~

_He was facing the wrong direction. He wasn't entirely sure how he knew, he just did._

_Looking around, he saw the familiar sights of the forest, the one that had frequented his dreams so many times. The same evergreens surrounded him, the same oaks, elms, and whatever other trees that he honestly had no idea what the fuck they were. Only this time, the ground was covered in leaves, ones that had recently fallen. And rather than the usual countless shades of green everywhere he looked, the forest was a kaleidoscope of warm colors: oranges, reds, and yellows greeting him from every angle he looked._

_Kendall searched all over for something familiar, a landmark that would help him determine the correct route to go. He soon found it, a large trunk that had fallen over, leaning at a thirty degree angle as it sat against another, much larger tree. Turning towards it, he headed in that direction, determination powering his strides as he closed the dozen yards or so in order to reach it._

_Climbing over the fallen trunk, he continued on in that direction, pausing every now and then to change where he was heading. A slight left at an oak that had been split in half and charred by lightning, a big right at an elm that had knots that almost looked like a face. He climbed up an embankment, over a creek, reaching large flat boulders that almost resembled huge nature-made stairs._

_The dirt and leaves of before had lessened, the grip of his Vans sneakers slippery on the smooth rock, but he made his way up, a mountainside becoming more and more visible as he went. His heart started racing, sweat on his skin that had nothing to do with the physical exertion he was putting out. Anticipation and nerves were making his skin tingle as he drew closer to his destination, closer to what he was looking for, closer to the one thing that would save..._

_His brow furrowed and he shook his head, ridding himself of the thought, the confusion. He needed to keep focused, keep going, keep moving forward._

_And there it was, the slim, tall opening on the side of the mountain, one that seemed carved by man, rather than by erosion or nature. What he was looking for was in there, somewhere, and it was only a matter of time before he had it._

_Which, thank fuck, because it needed to be soon before..._

_Kendall lifted his leg, the final step a big one, one that made him bend his knees and grab onto the boulder with his hands as he pushed himself up. He straightened into a standing position, slightly panting, a lump in his throat. Swallowing hard, he wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans, slowly stepping forward. The pounding in his chest got worse, louder, harder. He swore he could hear it in his ears, the volume enough to drive one insane. But he kept going, taking it one step at a time, careful not to rush in. No one knew what was inside, what dangers could lurk in the darkness, what could be hidden when he tried to squeeze himself in the crevice. Fully aware of every part of his body, he reached forward to touch the smooth rock—_

_Only to have a hand come down on his shoulder._

Kendall's eyes popped open, a huge gulp of air rushing into his lungs as awareness dawned on him. He wasn't in the woods, wasn't outside that damn cave. He was still in the cabin, still in the SafeHouse, standing right by the backdoor with his hand on the knob.

It had been that damn dream again. Only he'd gotten much closer than he ever had before.

So of course he'd been woken up.

His name was called out behind him, the tone of voice a mix of questioning and worry, and he swallowed hard against the emotional weight of those two-syllables. Exhaling slowly, he turned around to face James, to view the crinkle in his brow, the dark emotions in his eyes that were visible even in the lack of lighting. It was as if the smaller male's actions had scared him, that he was genuinely concerned, worried that something would happen if Kendall had managed to get the door open. A warm feeling washed over the blond, a sense of being loved and looked after, of knowing that the other man cared enough to make sure nothing happened to him, that he wasn't taken away from him again, that he was safe and secure and right where the brunet could see him.

“What part of ' _SafeHouse_ ' don't you understand?”

Or not.

James removed his hand after his growled out question, glaring at the younger male, jaw tense, eyes hard. All the previous concern and worry had been wiped away, replaced by anger and annoyance, and Kendall had to resist the urge to wipe that shit away with his fist. He had a sense that they'd gone through that before, a belief that they'd been in that same situation where James hid what he was truly feeling from him due to... well, whatever fucking reason it was, he wasn't sure. Didn't matter really. He just knew that it was annoying as shit and that was all he cared about.

The smaller male glared back just as hard, his own green eyes narrowed as they locked onto near black ones, his own jaw hard as he ground his teeth. “There's something out there,” he stated, anger muffling his words, finger pointed towards the door in emphasis.

The brunet's brow furrowed, his head slightly turned so his left ear was more towards the door, a look of intense concentration forming on his features. After a long silent moment, he shrugged and shook his head as he folded his arms over his chest.

“I don't hear anyone,” he responded in a snooty tone, like his word was final and there was no point in arguing because he was James and therefore right about everything. Prick.

“I didn't say some _one_ ; I said some _thing_ ,” Kendall clarified, huffing before shoving a hand through his hair. God, even to himself he sounded crazy. He honestly had no fucking clue where he was going, why he was going there, what the fuck he'd been talking about. Hell, he hadn't even known he'd gotten up and had walked over to the back door. As far as he'd known, he'd still been asleep in bed, dreaming of that damnable forest and the fucking cave that he still couldn't get to.

But in reality, he'd been sleepwalking, headed off into some wooded area he'd never been to in his entire life—as far as he knew anyway—talking about how _something_ was out there, something he couldn't name or see or figure out, something that he was convinced was there yet had no real proof of such a thing.

Burying his face in his hands, he let out a groan, the sound muffled in his palms. “I'm losing my fuckin' mind.”

A hand rubbed at his shoulder, comforting, warm, and he dropped his own appendages from his face, eyes looking up at the other male. Only to have James drop his hand and refold his arms.

“You should get back in bed.”

Wow. Such compassion and empathy.

Kendall's jaw ticked, eyes rolling as he let out a disbelieving snort. “Right. Sure.”

“I mean it,” James stated flatly. “It's been a long day and who knows what tomorrow has in store. You should rest up.”

The muscular one swallowed, green eyes panning to his left, seeing the back of a couch, a blanket draped haphazardly over it, a pillow hanging off the arm. James' makeshift bed for the night, clearly. Knitting his brow, he turned back to the larger male, voice small as he spoke. “Will you come with me?”

The brunet tensed up, body hard, inhaling shakily. “Kendall—” he began, volume low, tone a reluctant one, like he wanted to say yes but couldn't for whatever reason, leaving him with an option he wasn't entirely stoked about.

“Forget it,” the younger male cut off the elder, turning away and heading back to the bedroom. Disappointment welled up inside, rejection and hurt joining in, the combination strangely making his chest feel hollow, achy. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt as though he should've known the other male's response would be “no”, that he'd refuse, but that didn't ease the sting any.

Closing the door behind himself, Kendall climbed into the bed, laying on his back on the side closer to the window. The sheet settled about his waist, he stared up at the ceiling, wondering if he even could get to sleep if he wanted to. His mind was buzzing once more, between the remnants of his dream and the happenings that had taken place right after by the backdoor. He wasn't entirely sure how he'd known that James wouldn't join him in the bed, part of him wanting to chalk it up to the fact that the brunet had previously turned down the offer to join him, but another, more insistent part of him believed that to not be the case. Something in his head was floating about, some small nugget of information, some reason for the other male's behavior, but Kendall couldn't grab a hold of it in order to find out what it was.

It might've been more infuriating than the man himself.

The sound of the door opening hit his ears and he turned his head to watch James cautiously stepping into the bedroom, shutting the portal behind himself. The small amount of moonlight outside the window seemed to hit him just so, giving the blond the chance to look at him better, allowing him to actually see the male this time, rather than just being focused on the conversation as he had been by the backdoor.

James was in just a pair of boxers, like Kendall, his dark and hanging low on his hips. His hair was messy, sticking up at odd angles, likely a result of tossing and turning on the couch, making the blond think of other ways one could muss up the brown locks. His torso appeared to be muscular, flat pecs and ridged abdominals, the 'V' shape to his upper body that the younger male somehow knew men strived for with hours spent at the gym. Dark shapes were on the side of his neck, the hollow of his throat, and inside his forearms, but the smaller male still couldn't tell what any of them were, especially not in such low lighting.

Not that he gave a shit at that moment. Kendall's heart had stopped in his chest, weird considering how his blood was boiling as it rushed throughout his body, pooling once more under his own boxers. His breath caught in his throat, lungs frozen, chest tight. And the mark on his left ring finger was burning more with each step the other male took towards the bed.

The larger male rubbed the back of his head, as though he were smoothing down his hair, stopping by the bed on the side opposite the younger male. “I figured I could keep a better eye on you if we were in the same room, stop you from sleepwalking yourself into danger.” His voice was easygoing, making it sound like he was being truthful about his intentions. Yet his body was tense once again, muscles tightened, a slight grimace twisting the corner of his lips as he somewhat failed to give a relaxed smile.

Kendall's tongue darted out to wet his lips, his entire mouth going dry, and all he could do was nod, despite the feeling that he was being lied to. Without a word, he reached over and flipped down the sheet as it laid covering the other side of the bed, a silent invitation for the brunet.

James swallowed hard, nodding as he knelt onto the mattress, climbing onto the bed and under the sheet. He laid down on his side, facing away from Kendall, the white linen curving over his hip, covering his boxers but leaving his back exposed, allowing the blond to see the huge tattoo there.

It covered almost his entire back, a large shield, the details of which were hard to make out. But the blond could still see the three sections on it: the large paw print in the top left part, the wolf's head as it howled at a non-pictured moon on the right, the crossed swords at the bottom. The whole thing spoke of an underlying strength that lay hidden within the male himself, a pride in what he was, the power contained within his form.

Kendall lifted his right hand, reaching over his body to touch the markings, but thought better of it. Turning so he was facing away from James, he stared at the wall and forced himself to forget what he'd just seen and ignore the flurry of activity that had started up in his brain as it struggled to remember anything it could about the mysteriously male laying only a foot away from him.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The first thing Kendall was aware of when he woke up was the brightness. The sun was shining down through the high windows, streaming down onto the bed, an orange glow behind his eyelids. The second thing was the large frame that was wrapped around his own.

Consciousness slowly came across the blond, awareness following. He was on his side, facing the wall with the high windows, the sheet only up to his hips. James was directly behind him, a broad torso pressed up to a lean back, arms wrapped around the smaller male, legs tangled under the sheet. Kendall could feel the brunet's heart against his back, the exhales that ruffled his blond hair, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. But most of all, he could feel the tingling awareness on his left ring finger, his mark making itself known.

With the reminder of his mark's existence planted in his head, the blond became more aware of his current situation. He realized he was hard, painfully so, more than the usual morning wood that came with being a teenager. Probably had something to do with the male pressed up against him from behind, he figured, especially the cock that was resting perfectly between his asscheeks. He found himself mentally cursing at the two layers of fabric that separated them, thin as they might be, wishing there was nothing there at all so it'd be easier to get that hardness right where he wanted it the most.

Biting his lip, he ground his hips back, rubbing against the other male's erection. He relished the feel of it, the way it slid perfectly between his cheeks, the way it teased at his hole. His own cock throbbed in his boxers, his ministrations adding to his arousal. A whimper left him, barely audible as he sank his teeth more into his lower lip. He gripped at the sheet covering the mattress, wishing he was grabbing hold of the other male, tugging his hair.

A low groan came from James, his own hips starting to move against Kendall's. Harsh breaths gusted out against blond hair, the arm around his waist tightening, pulling him more against the larger male.

Flashes of fuzzy memories returned, remembrances of the two of them doing this exact thing, teasing each other, driving each other crazy until one or both of them snapped and they were naked. He shuddered at the mental image, lips parting, jaw going slack, eyes drifting closed. A moan slipped past his lips, his hand grabbing hold of the other male's, entwining their fingers and squeezing, needing more contact, more friction, more _everything_.

“Fuck, James,” he breathed out, his words husky, a mix of the raspiness of having just awoken and the arousal that had taken over his entire body, from the tips of his curled toes to the heat on his flushed cheeks. Because that's what he felt all over: heat. His blood was like lava rushing through fiery veins. The touch of the larger male's skin on his had the same feeling as the flames that had licked at him when he reached into the oven the day before. But the most noticeable sensation was the burning he felt on the mark on his finger, the intense kind of pain that he figured he should've felt when his arm was on fire. Only it was in the exact formation of the shapes on his first knuckle.

James froze behind him at the sound of his name, hips stilling, body tensing. It was like a switch had been flipped inside him, stopping his actions and waking him up. After laying still for a long moment, he pulled back, extracting his arm from the smaller male's grip as he slid away.

Kendall turned onto his back, watching the brunet get outta bed, facing away from him. James' muscles were tense, but trembling, left hand clenched into a fist as his right one rubbed at his eyes. Green eyes took in the hard lines of muscles, the way the larger male seemed to be fighting with himself, forcing himself to not get back under the sheets and resume what they'd been doing.

Personally, Kendall didn't see anything wrong with it. Other than the fact that it'd stopped.

“James?” he questioned, voice low, weak, almost a little scared of the reaction he'd get. He was puzzled over why the other male had put an end to their fooling around, worried that something was wrong with himself, with the brunet, a little lost over the fleeting thought about how James had been right to stop it before things went further.

The larger male held his right hand up in a wordless command for Kendall to be quiet, to not go there. “I'm gonna take a shower,” he announced gruffly, tone flat, voice rough. Turning, he walked over to the bureau, sliding open the top drawer and reaching inside.

The blond sat up, frowning. Part of him wanted to ask if he could join in, but the other part knew it was a bad idea and that the request would be denied. Instead, he took in the male before him, watching in silence as he grabbed the clothes he needed.

The tattoo on his back was clearer now, Kendall able to see the details of it. The outside of the shield had a Celtic looking braid bordering it, the same pattern forming the dividers inside of it. The wolf's head and paw print in the top sections were made of tribal lines, reminding the smaller male of the marks on his own back due to their similar formations. The crossed swords at the bottom were silhouettes, no details, just black shapes.

He swallowed at the remembrance of how he believed the brunet was dangerous, not someone to fuck with in any circumstance. Something buzzed in the back of his head, some piece of knowledge about the other male that he still couldn't grab a hold of, but he had the distinct feeling it had to do with why he thought James was unsafe, deadly even.

But not to Kendall.

The brunet slid the drawer closed with a resounding thud, not acknowledging the teen on the bed as he headed to the bathroom and shut the door behind himself. Left alone, Kendall flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling with his arms outstretched. He could hear the shower starting up, imagination kicking in and picturing James sliding off his boxers before getting under the spray. He thought of the muscles he'd peeked at the night before, the glimpse of sculpted abs and chiseled pecs he could just make out in the dark, his mind adding rivulets of water dripping down as the brunet washed off.

Then his mind went further, imagining things it hadn't seen yet, but had felt pressed against him mere moments before. He thought of the hard length that had rutted between his cheeks, of those long fingers he'd seen grip a steering wheel wrapping around his cock, the groan that had sounded out repeating in his ear over and over and over...

Kendall bolted up, kicking at the sheet when it got tangled around his legs, nearly stumbling as he finally managed to get free and out the bed. Now able to stand on his feet, he walked with purposeful steps towards the bathroom, pausing outside the door, gripping the frame. The rush of water was louder, allowing him to hear it hitting the ceramic shower bottom, hear it hitting skin. He could smell James' bodywash leaking through the cracks around the door, the steam of the water carrying it over, making it stronger. His mind went into overdrive as he imagined the brunet rubbing it over himself, skin covered in suds as he scrubbed, hands feeling every inch of himself in an effort to get clean.

He swallowed hard again, lips parting as he breathed heavily, feeling somewhat like a creep but being unable to help it. His hips moved on their own, rutting forward as if someone was there for him to press against. He could feel his arousal roaring back to life, need making his cock ache and his hole twitch and all he wanted to do was get in that room and have the brunet take care of it for him.

Which was why he shoved himself away from the door.

Taking long strides, he strode over to his clothes where they laid on the ground after he'd stripped the night before, quickly dressing himself in jerky movements. His tee was barely over his head when he made his away around the end of the bed and out the room, yanking the door open in a hurry to get out.

Only to realize he didn't exactly have anywhere to go.

Breathing out a swear, Kendall glanced around the large space, eyes landing on the kitchen. Breakfast was always a good idea.

His stomach growled, seeming on board with the plan, as well as appreciative that it was remembered after dinner had been forgotten.

Fingers combed his hair as he made his way to the kitchen, wondering if the place even had any food in it. After a quick perusal of the cabinets and fridge, he found it was fully stocked. Not only that, but it seemed to have a lot of his favorites and none of it was expired. Either he was extremely lucky or someone had been anticipating their arrival. He figured the latter, remembering how spotless and dust-free the place was.

He set about making coffee, pouring himself some cereal out of a brand new box during the wait for it to brew. Milk added, he set the bowl on the breakfast bar to let his flakes get soggy, moving on to the next task of locating coffee cups. Easily done, the mugs being conveniently located above the coffee maker. And given the monograms on the ceramic, it was even easier to tell which one he was supposed to use.

He still grabbed the “J” one and put it on the counter, along with his “K” one.

Coffee brewed, Kendall poured himself a cup, adding more sugar than was healthy and enough milk to turn his drink into a light tan. He hesitated for a moment after putting the milk back in the fridge before filling the “J” mug close to the brim with coffee.

James sauntered into the kitchen right after Kendall had settled on a stool at the breakfast bar. He spooned some of his food into his mouth, the flakes limp and grainy against his tongue, the milk sweet with dissolved sugar. The brunet cocked an eyebrow as he peered at the bowl, lip curving in disgust at the sight.

“I still don't see how you can eat soggy cereal,” he commented in amazement and repulsion, shaking his head dubiously as he turned towards the other counter.

The blond smirked in victory, swallowing before he replied. “At least I know you won't steal my food this way.”

A snort came from the larger male, his head bobbing. “That's for damn sure,” he muttered then pointed to the black mug sitting on the counter. “This for me?”

“It _does_ have the letter 'J' on it,” Kendall pointed out, tone slightly sarcastic.

James response was to flip the bird over his shoulder with his left hand, his right grabbing his cup and drinking. He grabbed the electric kettle and filled it with water while the blond returned to the task of eating, green eyes studying the brunet's movements. It was odd to think of a man as graceful, but that's what James was. He moved with ease, his motions fluid but not overdone, efficient and effortless. Kendall thought of the tattoo now hidden under a black t-shirt, the image of the crossed swords, and wondered if the brunet had some sorta fight training, if that accounted for his flowing movements and smooth actions.

“You're quiet this morning.”

The observation had the blond snapping out of his brainstorm and back into reality. His eyes focused on the sight before him: James leaning back against the counter behind him, arms folded, pushing already large biceps up. A thoughtful frown was on his face, mouth pinched, eyes narrow but analytical as they took in the younger male seated at the breakfast bar.

The comment sank in, Kendall realizing what was said, soon voicing an inquisitive response. “Am I usually chatty?”

James gave a small nod. “You are when you've just found out what you are.”

He flinched at the wording, a tick in his cheek before he frowned down at his cereal. _What_ you are, not who. It was like he wasn't human, didn't count as a person. He was just some freak of nature creature that only existed in mythology, not actually real, didn't really count. As badly as he wanted to know who he'd been and why he couldn't remember his past, he now wasn't entirely sure how thrilled he was at learning the truth, not when it cost him his humanity.

Appetite gone, he moved his spoon around the milk in his bowl, pushing the remaining half-dissolved flakes around. His eyes were trained downward, but he wasn't really seeing anything. He felt distant, like he wasn't in his own skin anymore, like he didn't belong to himself. Just as he felt he'd invaded upon someone else's home, he now felt as though he was living someone else's life, hearing someone else's truth. He just couldn't come to grips with the fact that he wasn't the normal teenage boy he'd assumed he was twenty-four hours ago, that he was a Phoenix, this creature that died and magically came back to life in a burst of flames.

Okay, he could admit it somewhat made sense. It explained how the mark on his back looked like flamed wings. It was good a theory as any to justify how he was able to grab hold of a pan containing a fiery cake and not get burned, especially when the flames moved onto his bare skin. And if James was right in his statement about how dying caused his memories to be lost, then that excused his amnesia.

Assuming, of course, that he actually believed any of this bullshit.

“Kendall?” James' voice was quiet, cautious, the two syllables carrying a million emotions. He was calling for the blond's attention, making sure he was all right, wondering where exactly he'd disappeared to mentally, worrying if he was able to handle everything that'd been thrown at him lately.

Green eyes lifted and met hazel ones, noting eyebrows that were raised in concern and confusion. He shrugged, not knowing what to say. “I'm just tryna wrap my head around all of this,” he stated lowly, dropping his spoon with a clink against the ceramic bowl. His hand rubbed the back of his neck, gripping the skin while his mind tried to get itself straight.

The larger male seemed like he understood, nodding as a reassuring smile turned up the corner of his lips. “You usually have trouble with this part.”

That made the blond remember how this wasn't the first time this had happened to him, that he'd gone through it before, and that James had been there with him. “How many times have I gone through this?” He was still speaking at a low volume, almost reluctant to ask, afraid of what the answer would be. But really, who wanted to hear how many times they'd died, only to come back to life and be all right physically?

“Four,” the brunet replied bluntly, turning around as the kettle switched itself off. Back to the blond, he continued talking in a flat tone, as if reciting answers to a problem that he'd given five hundred times, the words well-rehearsed. His hands, however, were busy getting his breakfast together. “The first time you were about twelve and your marks had just shown up. Second time, age fifteen, pure accident. You were in a car crash. Third time happened about a year or so later. You were attacked by wolves.” He paused and peered over his shoulder. “Jett was one of 'em, by the way.”

Kendall swallowed hard, the name causing a shiver to race down his spine and his chest to constrict in fear.

James faced away from him once more, mixing something in a bowl. “Last time was six months ago, but you already knew that.”

The blond nodded as the words sank in, the memory he'd recovered at his therapist's office pushing itself to the surface. He remembered running in the woods, remembered the fight, realizing now that James had been there with him, had been the one that was getting his ass kicked. He rested his elbow on the counter as he scratched his forehead, trying to recall more details, eyes widening as that very thing happened.

He'd been knocked to the ground, something hitting him from behind. No, not something; some _one_.

Lifting his head, he stared at James' back, voicing his realization. “Jett was there, wasn't he?”

The larger male tensed up, shoulders bunching, triceps contracting, and Kendall could hear the low rumble of a growl. Just like outside his therapist's office.

“ _Jett_ —” the name was snarled out, making it clear what the elder male thought of the preppy looking jerk. “—was busy distracting me as his li'l bitch of a stooge Wayne-Wayne went after you.” James turned around, bowl in his hand, stalking his way around the counter to sit next on Kendall's right. The blond had a fleeting thought about how the mark on his finger was warming up into those tingles once again, only to have it disappear when he became distracted by the other male's close proximity.

The brunet put his bowl down as he turned to the teen, forearm resting on the counter, leaning closer to the blond. His eyes were dark, serious, his features hard as he spoke solemnly. “Promise me if you come across some stupid white boy who looks, acts, and dresses black, that you get the fuck away as fast as possible. Avoid that idiotic motherfucker at all costs.”

The teen's eyebrows went up at the heavy phrases, at the way the words were spoken with a slight growl, like an animal had said them rather than a person. He quickly recovered, forcing a smile on his face as he joked in a light manner, hoping to lessen the dark mood that had come with the other male's statements.

“Avoid Justin Bieber. Got it. Not a problem.” He gave a sarcastic thumbs up to top the quip.

Only James didn't look amused. His eyes narrowed more, jaw clenched, as he continued in his grave tone—only with less growls. “I'm being serious, Kendall.”

“So am I,” the teen responded, sounding offended that the other male would even suggest he wasn't being just as grave. “Trust me, I don't wanna run into that motherfu—”

“Kendall,” James sighed out, exacerbated, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

Without even realizing what he was doing, Kendall reached over, laying his hand on top of the brunet's as it rested on the back of his stool. “I promise.”

His hand flew away from his face, his other pulling out from under the blond's as though he'd been burned. “Good,” he spoke gruffly, turning so he was facing forward. “I'm sick of seeing you die.” Picking up his spoon, he stabbed at his breakfast in his bowl. Oatmeal, Kendall figured out as he leaned over and peered inside. And the brunet had said his soggy cereal was disgusting. At least his had some sorta sweetness to it and couldn't be fed to horses.

“Plus,” James began, scooping up some of his food with his spoon, pausing with it halfway to my mouth. “It'd make my job a helluva whole lot easier.” He gave the smaller male a pointed look, eyebrows tilted up in a silent way of adding “you li'l shit”.

Only Kendall didn't get the reference, a frown forming as he watched the other male close his lips around his food. “Your job?”

His companion nodded as he chewed then swallowed. He peered at him out the corner of his eyes when he spoke, his voice even but with a slight hint of pride in what he was and what he did. “I'm a Guardian, a Protector. It's what the mark on my back represents. I was assigned to watch over you and make sure nothing bad happened to you.”

The teen let out a small snort, a barely there laugh as a slight smirk played on his lips. “Guess you're doing a shit job then, seeing how I've been killed four times.” It was meant to be a joke, a playful jab at the other male, as well as his own seeming inability to stay alive. Except it wasn't taken that way.

James leveled an icy cold glare at him, slamming his spoon against the counter as he fully turned to face the teen. His jaw was tensed up, eyes narrowed, chin jutting out in annoyance and anger. Fingers curved into fists, his entire body tightening up, muscles hardening. “Considering how you're not in Griffin's clutches and currently living in relative safety, I think I've done a damn good job, fuck you very much.” He spoke through clenched teeth, his words careful, tone even but with an underlying sense of rage. It was like he was trying to keep his cool and not completely blow up at the perceived offense.

“Sorry,” Kendall apologized, his voice small, meek, clearly having been put in his place. The other male just grunted, picking his spoon back up and going back to eating. The blond trained his eyes down at his own bowl, feeling small, a sense of guilt pooling in his stomach as the mood in the room shifted to one of discomfort. He knew he'd messed up, had said the wrong thing, and he had no idea how to lessen the other male's anger and get them back on the right track.

Thinking a change of subject was in order, he spoke up after a long silent moment. “Who's Griffin?” he questioned quietly, not entirely sure if he should be talking or letting James stew some more and calm down on his own.

The brunet gripped the back of his neck, rotating his head, trying to relieve the tension in his body. “I forget you don't remember shit,” he muttered out just as a muffled ringing sound filled the air. Breathing out a swear, he reached into the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out his smart phone. “Diamond,” he answered curtly as he stood up and stepped away, Kendall overhearing a “ _dog!_ ” being barked out down the line.

The younger male sighed heavily, shoulders slumping, head hanging. Their conversation was clearly over—for the time being at least—and he was gonna have to wait for answers once more. It wouldn't be so bad if he hadn't waited six months for this, if he didn't believe he had all the answers and information already in his brain out of his reach.

Staring down at his half-eaten cereal, he knew he wasn't gonna finish it, no longer in the mood to eat. He stood up, stool scraping against the hardwood floor noisily, taking his bowl over to the sink. He dumped out the remains of his breakfast before washing the bowl and spoon. Over the sounds of the running water, he could still hear James' end of the conversation as the brunet paced back and forth in the dining area of the cabin.

“I _had_ to call that late, I didn't have a choice,” he insisted, a strained edge to his voice that wordlessly told how he was trying to stay quiet and calm. There was a long pause as the person on the other end of the call spoke before he replied. “You know it's not my fault it took me that long to find Kendall, but I found him now. That's gotta count for something, right?” Another pause, he sighing loudly.

Kendall finished with the dishes, grabbing a hand towel to dry them. Leaning his hip against the counter, he watched the other male out the corner of his eye, noting the hard line of his clenched jaw, the way his eyes narrowed, his hand smearing over his face roughly in frustration. It was as though he was in a losing argument, and that no matter how right he may have been, it didn't matter to the other person.

“Look, I called 'cause we need help, all right? Our situation has gotten more serious. Jett found him and was apparently asking him about some sorta key,” James informed the caller, desperation coloring his tone in an attempt to make person who was talking to understand just how dire things had become. His brow scrunched up, head slightly jerking back, puzzled twist to his lips. “Manifleiss?”

Kendall nearly dropped the bowl he was drying. His eyes widened as he inhaled sharply, a huge sense of recognition bashing him in the brain. “Yes!” he called out before even thinking it up, temporarily forgetting that he wasn't part of the convo nor should he be listening to the brunet's words, much less responding to them.

The larger male turned to the eavesdropper, eyebrows raised in surprise, hazel orbs wide on his face, lips parted. “Uh, yeah, that would be the one,” he spoke into the phone.

The blond cleared his throat, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. He turned away from the other male, finishing his drying job, forcing himself to lose focus on what the brunet was saying. By the time he completed putting the dishes back where they belonged, James was done with his phone call and quickly striding over to the breakfast bar.

“We gotta leave, and now,” he informed the younger male, an underlying urgency to his words. “We're in for a long road trip.” With a slap to the counter, he turned and headed into the bedroom, giving Kendall no choice but to follow.

He stepped into the room, immediately noticing James kneeling on the floor, reaching under his side of the bed. “Where are we going?” he questioned, curious about their destination and what the other male was doing.

“The Palm Woods, just outside of LA.” He pulled out a duffel bag, plopping it on top of the bed, before reaching back under.

“Why are—”

“Just start packing,” the brunet ordered, voice slightly exacerbated, seeming sick of all the questions. He slid out another duffel and put it next to the first before standing up and giving Kendall an expectant look.

The blond briefly raised his eyebrows in an “okay then” fashion before grabbing the hunter green duffel, walking around to the other side of the bed with it. Placing it on top of the mattress, he started filling it with random clothing from the drawers he'd been informed were his. Feeling as though he had enough, he considered packing an extra pair of shoes, only to realize he had no clue where they were.

He asked James, being told they were in a bin under his bed. Pulling it out, he lifted the lid, seeing two of every pair of shoes, something else he questioned out loud.

“You started buying two of everything after your third death,” James informed him without emotion, as though he were simply discussing what the weather was gonna be like that day. “You didn't wanna risk your favorite shirt or shoes being incinerated when you regenerated.”

Kendall stuck out his bottom lip as he see-sawed his head, the explanation making sense. And, okay, he knew it was his own idea, but it seemed like a pretty smart one. He was glad his past self thought it up.

But the more he thought about it, the more uneasy he felt. Had he really been okay with the fact that he'd been killed repeatedly? Had he really been fine with the idea that he was gonna continue to be killed, to the point where he was making plans on replacing clothing and such? Had his mental and emotional state really been at ease with the knowledge that it was just another facet of his life, like being tall or having green eyes or hating grape flavored things? Because his current incarnation wasn't all that fine with any of that.

Slowly, he sank down onto the bed, pair of Vans sneakers between his hands, eyes staring absently at the wall across from him. He'd been murdered, been in a fatal car crash, been attacked by wolves, been... He frowned. James had said he'd died four times, yet had only given explanations for three of them.

He craned his neck to look at the other male, watching as he reached into the top drawer. “How was I killed the first time?”

James didn't look at him, avoided eye contact, speaking in that flat, emotionless voice once more. “It was before I showed up,” he replied, walking over to his duffel with hands full of socks, still avoiding Kendall's gaze. “I don't know the details.”

Kendall felt as though he was lying, but couldn't really prove it or figure out how he knew that, only to say it was a gut feeling. Deciding to just dismiss it, he shoved the shoes in his duffel without care, focusing on the nightstand next to him. He slid open the top drawer, rooting around, coming across a wallet. Opening it up, he found a driver's license with his picture on it, only a different name. “Kendall Smith,” he muttered out loud, snorting at the generic last name.

“I know,” the brunet agreed. “I like 'Knight' better, too.”

The blond decided not to think too much about what that meant or why the elder male had felt the need to point that out. Further inspecting the wallet, he found a couple twenties still inside. He had to mentally remind himself that it wasn't really stealing, that the money did in fact belong to him, before he took it out, shoving it in his jeans pocket.

Tossing the wallet back where it'd been, he looked around inside it some more, finding a switchblade knife tucked into the corner. Pulling it out, he saw a crescent moon carved into the handle. His inner-voice told him to take it, that it'd probably come in handy. After two violent run-ins with Jett, it was probably a damn good idea to have some sorta weapon on him, just in case.

He pocketed it, too.

Duffel packed, Kendall headed into the bathroom, grabbing his wallet out his discarded jeans, deciding to just leave the clothing behind. He briefly considered taking his cell phone with him, but his paranoia resurfaced, thoughts of tracking his calls and following used cell phone towers making him against the idea of it.

Better safe than sorry. Especially in this situation.

James was gone when he strolled back into the bedroom, although he could hear the sounds of the kitchen cabinets being open and shut. Wallet secure in his back pocket, he lumbered over to the duffel with heavy steps, a strange sadness washing over him at leaving behind the SafeHouse. He barely knew the place really, yet it was the first time he remembered feeling at home, despite the belief that he felt like a stranger there. On a last minute whim, he packed the framed photo from his nightstand in an attempt to take something of the residence—and his past—with him.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It didn't take them long to get packed and on the road, although the Camaro had been left behind in favor of a black Explorer. James explained that the SUV would be better since their route took them through the Rockies and they'd need better handling. Kendall joked if he knew the way or needed a GPS, since he was pretty sure the map Jett had been referring to wasn't the route to LA. James hadn't been amused, glaring at the blond.

They hadn't spoken for an hour since then.

Kendall watched the world blur by outside his window, noticing the exit numbers decrease with each passing mile. He wondered if he'd ever been outside Minnesota, if he'd ever lived anywhere except that state, if he'd ever even traveled past the state line.

“Yeah,” James told him, still staring out the front windshield. The aviators were back on his face, fingerless gloves over his hands, although the leather jacket was laying in the backseat. “You were actually born at the Palm Woods, lived there for a year or so before your family moved.”

He shifted in his seat so that he was facing the driver, attention fully on the brunet. “Why'd we move?”

The larger male just shrugged, one hand on top of the steering wheel in a relaxed manner, the other cupping his chin as his elbow rested on the door. “Guess your parents wanted to move. Not a whole lotta families living there.”

He worked his bottom lip between his teeth as he took the info in, thumb absently rubbing the mark on his finger. “So what _is_ the Palm Woods? Why are we going there?”

“We gotta meet up with Rocque,” James informed him, changing lanes. “He's our leader, the one in charge of the Ministry.” His voice was a mix of respect and annoyance, like this Rocque guy grated on his nerves, but he still looked up to him for whatever reason.

“Oh.” He wanted to say it all made sense, but it didn't, not to him anyway. “So, we belong to a church?”

The brunet twisted his head, eyebrow cocked, wordlessly asking _do I look like I go to a church?_ “No,” he replied flatly, facing forward once more. “It's just the name of the group we're in. We're the good guys, dedicated to keeping order and peace and protecting humans from the monsters that wish to do them harm.”

Kendall ran his fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp in thought as he did so. Well, if he had to be some sorta freak of a creature, at least he was teamed up with the right side. “Is everyone a Phoenix?”

The driver shook his head. “Phoenixes are a rare species. You're only the second one I've ever met.” His tone was slightly impressed when he said it, soon turning back into that educator type voice he had before. “Most are Mages of some kind, Oracles, Healers, things of the like.”

His teeth sank into his bottom lip again, a frown on his face as he stared at his lap. Jett had referred to Dr. Mitchell as “Healer”. Was he one of the Mages James was referring to? Was he on their side? Was that why he'd written Kendall up as being perfectly all right and good to go when he was first brought in? Was that why he hadn't bothered checking out his arm when he came in the other day and had just taken the teen's word when he said he was unharmed, because he knew the truth about what Kendall was?

Too many questions, still not enough answers.

“Then there's Wolf-Shifters,” James continued, drawing Kendall's attention once more.

“Werewolves?” the blond questioned, snorting in disbelief. He could buy Mages, he could buy Phoenixes, but werewolves? Not so much. That shit belonged in cheesy sci-fi movies and lame teen book series.

A growl rumbled up from the other male's chest as he leveled a hard glare that was visible even through the sunglasses masking half his face. “No,” he grumbled. “Wolf-Shifters. Werewolves change into half-wolf, half-man monstrous beings. We transform into an _actual_ wolf.” He sounded completely offended that Kendall would even _dare_ compare him to the other kind of wolf-creature, pissed at the insinuation that he was something else.

Kendall held up his hands in innocence, shaking his head to show he meant no harm. “Sorry,” he spoke in a meek voice.

The brunet muttered out an “uh huh”, not fully accepting the apology. But at least the growling stopped.

Turning, the driver looked out the front window, sighing before he continued with what he'd been saying. “Anyway, _Wolf-Shifters_ are usually Guardians or Soldiers of some form, helping to protect people of great importance.”

Scratching his forehead, the blond let those words settle in his mind, vaguely wondering why he'd been assigned a Protector, why he was so important that he needed to be kept safe. Although the fact that he'd been purposely murdered twice—possibly three times, since he still had no clue how he died the first time—and that Jett had been after him on multiple occasions was somewhat of an explanation for that.

And now that he was thinking of the prick...

“Why'd you call Jett a Half-Breed?” he questioned, dropping his hand onto his lap. “What's that even mean?”

James shifted so his left hand was resting on top of the steering wheel, his right loosely laying on his own lap. The blond imagined what it'd be like to have their fingers intertwined as they, the two of them heading somewhere on vacation for fun, rather than on their way to some place he'd never heard of in order to keep hiding from the threat bearing down on him. Only, for some reason, he knew in the back of his mind that holding hands wasn't a good idea. Not for them anyway.

“Our kind, Shifters and Mages, they come from having two parents like that,” the driver explained, keeping his eyes on the road but his head slightly aimed towards the passenger. “Every now and then one might mate with a human, the result of which is considered a Half-Breed. They tend to have diminished powers and don't live as long as their supernatural parent and because of that, they're looked down upon and treated as a lower class of sorts.”

Kendall felt a wave of concern wash over him, his eyes and lips turning down at the corners, a frown forming on his face. While he didn't like Jett—at all—he still felt bad for him and those of his kind. He couldn't imagine what it would be like growing up treated like you were less of something all because of your parentage. It wasn't like they chose to be Half-Breeds, like they asked to have a human for a parent, yet they were still punished in a way because of it. No one should be treated that way.

“That's gotta suck,” he commented lowly, still feeling bad for the Half-Breeds, but also a little jealous. At least they knew who their parents were. Kendall wasn't sure if his were even alive.

He watched as James nodded, seeming to agree. “Clearly they're pissed about it,” he stated, his tone implying that it didn't even really need to be said, but he put it out there anyway. “One in particular named Griffin who left the Ministry about a decade ago. He started his own following called the Legion.”

Kendall raised an eyebrow at that, thinking it sounded like something out of his foster sister's comic books.

“Jett and Wayne-Wayne are a part of it, pretty much acting like Griffin's li'l henchmen.”

Definitely out of a comic book.

The puzzled look remained on the blond's face as he stored that info away for later use. “So, what do they want with me?” he asked, wondering where exactly it was that he fit into the whole thing. As far as he knew he wasn't a Half-Breed, so it wasn't like Griffin was trying to recruit him.

“Not sure,” James answered honestly, breathing out the words before peeking into the rear view mirror. “I assume it has something to do with the map in your head and the Key of Manifleiss.”

His eyebrows raised then lowered in quick succession, figuring that was as good an explanation as any. But there was still one question remaining. “Do you know what the Key of Manifleiss is?”

The driver snorted as he guided the SUV into the right lane, corner of his lips tugging up in an amused form of confusion. “No idea,” he quipped before his face shifted, eyebrows furrowed, lips pinched, jaw tense. “But if Griffin keeps sending Jett after you, he clearly wants it bad, which means it's gotta be really fucking important.”

A lump formed in Kendall's throat, one he struggled to get rid of as he turned and faced out the front windshield. A cold sense of dread washed over him, a shiver sliding down his back, bottom lip between his teeth once more. James had just voiced what he was afraid to hear. Because if it was that important, it meant Jett—and Griffin—would always be after him, not stopping until he had the Key or Kendall was dead.

Permanently this time.

~*~*~*~*~*~

An hour past the Minnesota-Iowa border, they stopped at a gas station with an attached restaurant. James filled up the SUV before they both headed inside, seating themselves at a booth by the window so the brunet could keep an eye on the car. Their timing was perfect, arriving between the lunch and dinner rushes, meaning the place was practically deserted when they set foot inside.

Drink orders were filled in a flash, Kendall getting a regular cola, James another black coffee, the waitress disappearing to put their food orders in.

The brunet stared out the window, aviators on the table in front of him, scratching his inner forearm absently. The blond took advantage of the other male's lack of focus and visually assessed him. The markings on his inner-arms were three rows of symbols, runes that he didn't understand nor had he ever seen before. They seemed to be spelling something out in another language, judging by the spaces between some of them, giving them the appearance that they were words.

Green eyes traveled up the arms, past large biceps, to the brunet's neck, where he finally got a good look at the tattoo there: a crescent moon, the tips of it pointing towards his throat.

“Does the mark on your neck mean you're a Wolf-Shifter?” he asked quietly, pointing to the symbol in question.

James nodded, turning to face him. “And the one on my back was given to me when I completed my training to be a Guardian.”

Kendall folded his arms on the table, leaning forward so he could talk to his companion easier. “So, are all our marks put on by someone else.”

The brunet mirrored his position, the two of them with their heads close together as they spoke. The teen could feel the mark on his finger start to burn, but he shoved the thought to the back of his mind, choosing to ignore the sensation.

“No,” the elder male answered, fingers twined together, gloves still on his hands. “They show up when we turn twelve. That's when I got my moon mark—” he put his hand over the mentioned mark briefly, drawing attention to it rather than covering it up. “—and when you got your compass and flamed wings.”

The teen wanted to ask about the ones on their fingers, as well as the ones on James' inner-arms, only he never got the chance. Their waitress had showed back up with a huge tray of food, the larger male leaning back to make room for her. Carefully, she placed their dishes in front of them: a grilled cheese and fries for the teen; two cheeseburgers with extra bacon, a huge heaping of fries, and some onion rings for the elder. The blond raised an eyebrow as the brunet's food was placed in front of him, a look that was discovered.

“What?”

Kendall shook his head in innocence. “Nothing. Just,” he paused to figure out how to word what he was thinking without pissing the other male off, his miniscule amount of experience in dealing with James proving that he was easy to aggravate and offend. “Are you seriously gonna eat all that?”

“Yeah,” the larger male replied in a _duh_ manner, holding one of his giant cheeseburgers with two hands. “Shifting and recovering from it takes a lotta energy, therefore I need to have a lotta calories, not to mention a whole lotta protein.”

The blond figured that made sense. After all, it couldn't be easy to have your body completely break down and reform into an entirely different shape, then have it go back to the way it usually looked.

Picking up half his grilled cheese, he bit into it, the melted cheddar dripping out and burning his tongue slightly. The pain didn't last long though, something he'd discovered wasn't all that normal either after pizza night back at his foster home a few months ago. Katie had fanned her mouth for a good hour after the mozzarella had scorched her tongue; Kendall felt the sting recede after a few seconds.

The memory of his foster family made him think of his real one, the one he didn't remember, his curiosity piquing once more. Taking advantage of the lull in conversation and the lack of other patrons, he went ahead and asked the question currently at the forefront of his mind.

“You said we need two parents in order to become what we are, right?” he double-checked, getting a nod in response. “Does that mean my parents are Phoenixes, too?”

He watched as James' face shifted, his eyes turning down at the corners, his mouth drooping, sadness taking shape on his features. He swallowed his food before responding.

“No,” he spoke softly, with a genuine feeling of apology in having to say that answer. “Phoenixes are different. It's a gene that needs to be carried by both parents and sometimes even then it doesn't show. But families only ever have one Phoenix amongst them at a time.”

Kendall's head hung off his shoulders, eyes trained down at his food as he nodded, playing with a french fry. He had a feeling that would be the answer, but he still held out hope that maybe somewhere out there, his parents were okay, were just like him, and that he would one day find them. Only that wasn't the case. He truly was on his own, the realization of which made his chest hurt and his heart feel heavy.

Lifting his head, he focused on the male across from him, reminding himself he wasn't entirely alone. He had James, in whatever manner their relationship was. Maybe they'd been in love, maybe they hadn't. But whatever the case, he still had the brunet as an ally of sorts. For the time being anyway.

Fry in hand, he continued the conversation, slightly changing the subject from himself. “What about your parents? You know them?” He spoke with a genuine interest, deciding that if he was gonna be around the Wolf-Shifter, he might as well know him. Or at least know him better than just his name, the fact that he was supposed to protect the blond, and he might have a bit of a temper.

James' face closed off, the sorrow he'd had there when talking about Kendall's folks now gone. His lips pinched, eyes hardening, shoulders tensing. He grabbed a couple fries and stabbed them into the little pool of ketchup he'd made on his plate. “Not much to know,” he ground out. “My father had nothing to do with me past my creation, my mother barely seemed to want me around. Best thing that happened to me was being taken away at age five to start my training.”

Green eyes went wide in surprise. He didn't exactly think that was an appropriate age for a kid to be taught how to fight or kill like James most likely had been, but then again, it wasn't exactly his culture. Still, he didn't agree with taking away someone's childhood like that, forcing them to be soldier, no matter the reason. Even worse was the fact that James' parents didn't even seem to care, more than likely just wanted him gone. He had two absentee guardians, neither of whom seemed to have any sorta maternal or paternal instincts, neither of whom seemed to even want a kid in the first place.

It was no wonder the guy was so cold.

“I'm sorry you had to deal with all that,” Kendall stated sincerely. He clenched one hand on his lap, the other around his drink, resisting the urge to cover one of James' hands with his own. That voice in the back of his head had told him it was a bad idea, and so far, it hadn't been wrong.

The brunet shrugged nonchalantly, not appearing to be all that bothered by it. “It's fine,” he commented, voice flat, not giving anything away. But he didn't look at Kendall as he said it, kept his eyes trained on his food. “I don't regret anything about my past.” At that, his eyes _did_ lift, meeting green ones with a slight glow behind the hazel color, a myriad of emotions swirling in them.

His mark was burning more now, no longer able to be ignored, and he had to shove his hand under his leg in order to keep it from touching the elder male. His heart skipped a beat in his chest as he inhaled sharply, a tingle breaking out all over his skin. He tried to figure out exactly what James was thinking, tried to read the emotions in his eyes, but couldn't. A feeling that he should already know what the brunet was referring to hit him, but he'd be damned if he could figure it out.

But before he could ask, James spoke.

“So. The map,” he stated plainly, taking a bite of his second burger.

Kendall jostled his head, clearing his mind of all other thoughts, trying to get his head straight so he could understand what the other male had said, what he was talking about now. His eyes went to the compass mark on the inside of his forearm, right hand moving to cover it up.

“I don't know anything about it,” he admitted lowly, almost feeling ashamed that he didn't have any info. With Jett, he'd wanted to hide it all, knew it was safer to keep that shit to himself. But with James, he knew he had to put everything out on the table because the brunet _was_ safe, was gonna help. Only he had nothing to put out there.

The elder male cocked an eyebrow, cheeseburger halfway raised to his mouth again. “You stopped having those dreams about the woods?”

Shock had the blond's eyebrows raising, jaw hanging slack. He felt like he'd just been punched in the face with the fact that it was so fucking obvious. He had to be a major fucking idiot to have not figured it out sooner, especially after being told he was a map. Clearly it meant he was supposed to go somewhere and find something, hence the dreams he had where he was searching for something.

Only he'd didn't recall mentioning them to James.

Not a big issue really, not when they knew each other before. He must've just mentioned it in a previous incarnation. Went along with his previous thought over how he had the urge to tell the larger male everything and share all the info he had.

“ _That's_ what those are?” he asked, still feeling dumb for not figuring it out sooner.

“Yup,” James replied, popping the “p”. “Hints about where you're supposed to go.” He paused to take a drink, his mug being set down with a clink on top of the saucer it was provided with. “Don't suppose you know the starting point, do ya?”

A sheepish look appeared across Kendall's face, a slight wince as he scrunched up his nose. “Sorry.”

Another shrug, another wordless _no biggie_. “It's all right. I have some friends in Denver who might have the answers and we'll be passing through there. Hopefully they'll meet with us and give us some help.”

The blond could only nod, eyes trained downward once again. He felt completely helpless and idiotic, not contributing anything to their task except the ability to be a huge burden. He was a total damsel in distress, unable to defend himself, stuck just following the hero and hoping to continuously be saved, since he couldn't do it on his own. And how fucking lame was that?

He felt his foot being nudged by another, his head lifting to see the curious concern on James' face. He turned and faced out the window, jaw set, teeth clenched, unable to handle it. His pride was taking a huge blow at the moment, hating the fact that he was defenseless, weak. The last thing he needed was someone else's pity.

James smeared a hand roughly over his face, hand slapping the table. “You ready to go?” He sounded defeated, although he hadn't been fighting or arguing. It was as if he'd given up trying to reach the blond and figuring out what was happening in his head, deciding to just go along with whatever he wanted, even if he didn't like it himself.

Nodding, Kendall slid out the booth, reaching for his wallet, only to be stopped.

“Just go get in the car. I'll take care of this,” the brunet spoke softly, but not in a demeaning way. It was a silent way of saying he understood the other male wasn't in a good mental place and that he'd do whatever he could to help out.

A small smile tugged at the corner of the teen's lips as he gave a low “thanks”. The elder male returned it with a bigger one of his own, patting his upper arm before heading towards the counter. Kendall watched him, a tiny fluttering in his stomach that had nothing to do with greasy diner food. He understood how he'd fallen in love with James before. Because it was happening again.

~*~*~*~*~*~

As they headed down the interstate in Iowa, Kendall learned another thing about himself: he absolutely _hated_ James' driving.

It was as though speed limits didn't exist for him. He weaved in and out of traffic, tires screeching as he switched lanes, not giving a damn who he nearly crashed into. Kendall figured he was a safe driver, had to have been, his reflexes appearing to be quicker than even the fastest human reaction. But it wasn't entirely reassuring.

He wondered if it was just a latent fear in the back of his head that was a result of the fact that he'd died in a car crash. Then he'd get a peek at the speedometer and no, definitely wasn't that.

“You're gonna get pulled over,” Kendall called out over the revving engine, fingers wrapped in a death grip around the handle on the ceiling.

James snorted, most likely rolling his eyes behind his aviators. His body was in a relaxed position, left hand lightly gripping the top of the steering wheel, right forearm laying on the center console as he leaned back. He looked like he was cruising at a low speed on a Saturday night, not qualifying for the pole position at a NASCAR race.

“Cops have to catch me first,” he said with a smirk, clearly amused by the other male's overreaction.

Definitely not the reassurance the teen had been seeking.

A forced choke of a laugh sputtered its way out of the blond, the SUV swerving to narrowly avoid running into a red sedan in front of it, only to cut back into the same lane to miss ramming a blue minivan. The movements of the Explorer caused Kendall's body to sway back and forth, his left hand shooting out and landing on top of James' right. He wrapped his fingers around the other male's, hoping for some comfort that way, a tiny physical declaration that all will be okay and that he had nothing to worry about.

Only that never happened. James pulled his hand away once again.

The blond's head shot round to the driver's, eyes narrowed in a mix of annoyance and puzzlement. “What the fuck?” he demanded to know, brow creased in anger.

“What?” his companion questioned right back, head twisting back and forth between his passenger and the windshield, seeming perplexed over the outburst.

“Every time my hand touches yours, you pull away,” he pointed out, still frowning at the other male. “You got something against hand-holding?”

James' face pinched, muscle in his jaw ticking, grip on the steering wheel tightening. “No,” he ground out before forcing his mandible to relax. “It just doesn't mean the same to me as it does to you and I don't want you getting the wrong idea.”

Shit.

Kendall's heart stopped, dropping to his stomach. He could feel his skin tightening around him, like it was shrinking in to protect him from the blow he could feel coming. “What are you talking about?” he asked quietly, voice barely audible over the engine.

But he was still heard. “You and I?” the brunet began, waving a finger back and forth between the two of them. “We aren't together. Not like that.”

His heart and stomach dropped further, onto the seat below him. His mouth flapped open and shut as he struggled to speak, his words being sputtered out as he tried to argue. “But. SafeHouse. The photos.” His points were weak, he knew, but it was all he had.

The driver didn't bother looking at him, just continued staring out the windshield, his body still as tense as before. “A cover. Nothing more.”

Kendall made like a goldfish once more, mouth open, shut, open, shut, open, shut. Only this time, nothing came out. He felt like his heart and stomach had completely fallen past the seat, through the car floor, and onto the interstate they were speeding down.

His eyes dropped to his hands on his lap, focusing on the mark on his finger, the one that matched James'. He'd been so sure, so completely adamant that there was something there between the two of them, something more than just Guardian and Protected. The photos were proof of it, weren't they? He wasn't that great an actor, so there was no way he could fake that genuine happiness, that sincere love that shone through on every framed image. And then there was his own physical reaction when he was with the brunet himself, the heart pounds and stomach flips and skin tingles. He felt more connected to this man in less than twenty-four hours, than he had with the people he'd been living with for six months. That had to mean something, right?

A soft sigh came from his left, almost sounding like one of regret. Although Kendall wasn't sure if it was because of what James had already said, or was about to.

“Guardians aren't supposed to be with the person they're protecting, not in that way,” he spoke quietly, as if the words were too heavy for him to be able to say them any louder. “It's against the rules.”

His eyebrow quirked on its own, his head raising to look at the driver, noticing both his hands were now on the steering wheel, left still at the top, right on the bottom. “Rules?”

The brunet nodded as he kept up his habit of avoiding eye contact. “Yeah, rules. Ones that are meant to be followed, no questions asked, no backchatting, nothing.” His teeth ground as he said those words, hands gripping the steering wheel tighter again, the squeak of leather on leather heard over the engine.

“With great power comes great responsibility,” Kendall quoted one of his foster sister's comic books, grin on his face, trying to lighten the mood. The unamused glare he got in response told him it wasn't appreciated, his smile disappearing. “No?”

“No,” was the driver's flat reply before his head turned away again.

His eyebrows lifted in an _all right then_ fashion, sighing as he settled in his chair, preparing to deal with the grumpy side of James once more. “So what are these rules?”

“The biggest and most obvious one is that we need to keep what we are a secret,” he pointed out, using that educator tone he tended to have when giving the blond info about them. “No bragging about being a Phoenix, no blabbing about it on the internet, no using powers in front of humans.”

That had Kendall perking up in his seat, eyes widening, huge grin spreading across his face. “I have powers?” he questioned excitedly, loudly, voice bouncing off the car interior. “Well, other than dying, I mean,” he added at a lower volume with nowhere near the same amount of joy.

“Yeah,” James answered calmly, coming nowhere near the level of enthusiasm his passenger had about it. “Although technically you _can_ die. It's just not very easily and rarely ever happens. Not many people even know how to do it.”

Okay, _that_ sucked the excitement right out of everything.

The blond returned to his slumped position, turned towards the other male, back resting against the door. “How?” He knew he was gonna regret asking, but still couldn't help wondering about it. Hell, the info could even come in handy one day, if for no other reason than he'd know what to avoid doing.

“First way is if you're harmed during your regeneration process,” the brunet explained clinically, detached, no emotion whatsoever. It was like he had no idea the younger male was actually a little worried about this, had no clue that he was sitting there chewing on his thumbnail and shaking his leg. “And subzero temps could damage your fiery core, meaning if you freeze to death, that's it, no way of coming back.”

“Guess I better cancel that trip to Antarctica then,” he joked, an uneasy smile on his face as he forced out a laugh. He received the same _that's so not funny, stop playing around_ look he'd gotten for his Spider-Man reference. Couldn't the Ministry have given him a Guardian with a sense of humor?

Sensing a change of subject was in order, he voiced the next inquiry on his mind. “Okay, so what powers _do_ I have then?”

“You can control and manipulate fire,” James informed him, pointing his finger at an invisible board with the statement written on it. “You can even create it, but you never got the handle of that one. If anything, your hands got a li'l red and you'd get pissed off.” He chuckled, smile brightening his face at a memory of some form, one Kendall wished he knew so he could share in the amusement. “Was pretty cu—” He cut himself off, clearing his throat. The smile was wiped away as his brow formed a straight line behind the top of his aviators, face all business once more.

Kendall wasn't entirely sure, but he pretended for a moment that the other male was about to say it was pretty cute.

Sometimes hope was all you had.

Loosely folding his arms over his torso, he shuffled in his seat, the handle digging into his back. “So,” he began, his own features arranged into a serious expression as he studied the driver. “Any other rules or powers or things I need to know?”

James seemed to frown, brow furrowed in thought, before he relaxed it once more. “Not really,” he replied, voice seeming easy, despite the tense lines of his body. “Not for you anyway.”

“But for you?”

“They don't matter, don't pertain to you.” That tick was back in his jaw, whites on his knuckles, that physical reaction to trying to hold himself together, keep himself back from saying or doing something he wasn't supposed to. “Other than the one I already told you, that is.”

The reminder of said rule caused the same reaction inside Kendall as it had before, a feeling of something inside him breaking and falling. He tightened his arms around himself, fingers gripping his sides. His teeth worried at his bottom lip, almost immediately feeling the sting of it being chewed on too much too often. But he couldn't help it. He felt as though he was falling apart and the one thing, the one _person_ who could keep him together was refusing to help.

His eyes turned down at the sides as he desperately voiced his curiosity. “But isn't there a way to get arou—”

“Let it go, Kendall,” James interrupted, breathing out the words in exacerbation. His shoulders slumped, head slightly lolling back, apparently tired of the same argument. He met the blond's eyes with his aviators, pleading with a look as well as his words to just get over it and not mention it again. “It's not happening. Just. Move on.” With that said, he turned back to the windshield.

A lump formed in his throat, another crack felt in his chest, tears prickling the back of his eyes. But he refused to let them fall, refused to let the other male see how his words had affected him, how upset he'd become. Turning, he looked out the window, elbow resting on the door as he chewed on his thumbnail. He distracted his mind by staring out the glass at the passing scenery, the trees and fields seeming to be less blurry than before. James had slowed down significantly, now doing the actual speed limit, because he realized how freaked out Kendall had been over the fast rate the SUV was previously traveling at.

Closing his eyes, Kendall allowed one tear to fall, hating how hurt he felt, but not as much as he hated the hope that he was right in believing James was lying about the two of them not being in love.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was sometime after ten when James finally pulled into a motel parking lot. He'd said he'd wanted to get as close to the state line between Nebraska and Colorado as possible—an explanation given when Kendall questioned why dinner was a fast food drive-thru as they continued on their way—ending up in a small town only an hour or so away.

The motel was a mid-range place, a two-story rent-a-room joint with dumpsters randomly placed in parking spaces and a whole lotta mess surrounding them. A quick inquiry about that with the man behind the counter during check-in informed them that half the rooms were being renovated, meaning space was limited. And with a lot of guests already in for the night, they would just have to take what they could get.

Which turned out to be a room with one double-bed.

Something James wasn't entirely happy about as they stepped inside their home for the night.

He began muttering in a language Kendall didn't recognize, more snarls and growls than actual words, as he practically stomped his way inside. The blond followed at a more shuffled pace, calmly closing the door behind himself, watching as the other male stalked his way to the opposite side of the room.

James tossed his duffel onto the table before sitting on the edge of the bed with a huff, head in his hands, back to the teen. The “Do Not Disturb” sign would be better placed hanging around his neck than the doorknob.

Kendall felt weary, the long day in the Explorer and the bounty of information he'd been given over the past two days taking its toll. Not to mention the knowledge that his life was in danger and that he was technically running from some evil madman who clearly wanted the teenager so he could locate the Key of Manifleiss. Whatever that was.

No matter the case, he felt exhausted, a bone deep fatigue that was weighing his entire being down. The last thing he wanted to deal with was James' latest bout of irritation, this time aimed at their sleeping arrangements.

Placing his duffel on the opposite side of the bed from his travel partner, he stared at the slumped form before him. “I'm gonna take a shower,” he announced, just for the sake of speaking, sick of silence. It had been quiet in the SUV for the past four hours they'd been on the road, both of them stewing for different reasons. Only now, Kendall wasn't in the mood to pout or be upset. He just wanted to get some sleep, something he'd been severely lacking lately.

The brunet barely moved, just waved a couple fingers over his shoulder in an _okay_ manner.

A sigh slipped past the teen's lips, hand rubbing the back of his neck, trying to work out the kink that had been formed during the long car ride. Whatever. It wasn't his fault they were stuck in the same bed. Besides, they'd shared one the night before and nothing had happened.

Well, except for that whole grinding against each other thing that took place that morning. But other than that...

He shook his head, derailing that train of thought. No use going down that road, not when James had made it clear that they won't be going there ever again. Instead he focused on getting a pair of clean boxers out his duffel, unzipping the luggage.

And revealing the framed photo he'd taken from the SafeHouse.

Awesome.

Being careful, he moved the picture so it was sitting along the side of the bag, rather than laying on top of his clothing. Shoving fabric aside, he dug around inside, hand rubbing against something leather that he didn't recall packing. He pulled it out, discovering it was a toiletry bag. He opened it up, seeing prepacked shampoo and bodywash, razors and shave gel, and... lube and condoms.

His eyes widened, brows practically shooting up to his hairline. He'd already had an inkling that he wasn't a virgin and that he'd had sex with James. It was still a shock to see the necessary supplies waiting inside his duffel.

Zipping the bag back up, he returned to his previous task, finally locating a pair of boxers. Undies and toiletries in hand, he headed to the bathroom located behind himself, closing the door and shutting out the grumpy male he was stuck with.

~*~*~*~*~*~

_He was in a different part of the woods, that much he knew for sure._

_Kendall did a three-sixty, taking in his surroundings, the trees, the leaves on the ground, the twigs that snapped under his feet with each step. It was the same forest, the knowledge of that tingling at the back of his head. He just was in a different section, further away than he normally was._

_That fact seemed to stick in his mind, repeating over and over, a broken record of how he was more distant from his destination than usual._

_Completing his turn, he set off in the direction he felt was right, feet trudging along at a fast pace. He had more ground to cover, in the same amount of time, making his task more urgent. He needed to move to get there before they did, to find it first._

_A few dozen yards later, he came across a stream, turning to walk along it. His breathing was labored, throat dry and rough from harsh pants, but he didn't had time to stop and get a drink. He needed to keep going, the knowledge of that beating against his brain with each step._

_Keep. Going. Keep. Going. Keep. Going._

_Another left, more walking. A slight right, more walking. And then he stopped, head twisting around to view his new place in the forest. It was the spot where he'd dreamt he'd been the night before, facing in the same misguided direction. But a turn to the left soon fixed that and he was off again, determined steps pounding against crunching leaves._

_Only his weren't the only footsteps his ears could hear._

_He was being followed. He knew it for a fact, a feeling that twisted his gut and made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He sped up his pace, something that felt necessary yet futile. He knew he couldn't outrun the other person, that they'd easily catch up to him. But if he could make it there first..._

_The steps behind him quickened, too, a strange noise joining it. It took Kendall a few seconds to recognize it as the low rumble of a growl. But it wasn't James, he was sure of it. He could pick that sound out of a million similar ones, just like he could pick out the exact tone of his speaking voice._

_Kendall's heart pounded double-time, fear seizing his chest. He didn't bother with the slowly speeding up bullshit, instead breaking out into a run, hearing his stalker do the same._

_His feet slipped on the leaves, his shoes not having the best grip, but he managed to maintain his balance as he sped as fast as he could through the forest. The landscape whirled past him in a blur, his panting worse, his lungs burning and legs screaming at him to stop. But he kept going, kept running._

_He hopped over the fallen log, using the trunk as leverage as he lifted his body over it, landing with a thud on his knees. He scrambled back to his feet, bolting once more, knowing he had no time to lose. The other person was gaining ground on him, faster, bearing down on him at an alarming pace. They were almost there, almost able to get him, almost..._

Kendall bolted up in bed right as James did the same, disoriented about where he was. He felt the sweat covering his skin and his hair sticking to his neck and face, felt his heart pounding and his lungs burning as he panted, but he was barely aware of those exact details. His mind and attention were more focused on the male who was previously in bed with him, the male who was now standing beside the piece of furniture, growling.

James was in a defensive position, legs bent, hands out at his sides. But that wasn't what caught Kendall's focus. It was the claws on the end of each finger that had appeared, the fangs protruding from his mouth as he snarled, the eerie red glow of his eyes. He knew the brunet was a Wolf-Shifter, had heard him call himself that, had seen the crescent moon tat, the large shield that featured a wolf's head and a pawprint. It was another thing entirely to see the guy partially changed and ready to fight.

The blond watched with wide eyes as the larger male moved around the end of the bed, stalking his way to the end of the small hallway that was created by the bathroom, resuming his previous pose with his back to Kendall. Protecting him.

The earlier “Damsel in Distress” thought came back, the teen feeling more like it than ever. The castle was under attack, her knight in shining armor prepared to defend her honor as she sat cowering on the bed.

Only the “she” was a “he” in this instance.

A small burst of courage roared up inside him, forcing him up and outta bed. He suddenly remembered the knife he'd taken from the SafeHouse and he scrambled to his duffel to grab it out of his discarded jeans just as the door was kicked in.

“Well, well, well.” The voice was male, a cocky one at that, but not Jett. It still managed to make a shiver raced down Kendall's spine, freezing him where he crouched by his bag on the floor. “If it isn't Lame James and his li'l bitch boy.”

The brunet's growls intensified, his mouth barely able to snarl out a “Wayne-Wayne”.

Kendall lifted his head to see the named male walking in. The guy was short, scrawny, his lean frame covered in a white track suit that looked like it was better suited in an '80s rap video. Black hair peeked out from under a white fitted cap that was turned to the side, dark eyes seeming to shine with an evil sort of joy, the same kinda twinkle Kendall had witnessed in Jett's eyes.

And that made sense, considering the two of them were the henchmen for the same man, one who wasn't spoken of too kindly by James. Wayne-Wayne also had the same cocky demeanor Jett had, the same victorious grin before winning anything, the same conceited tilt to his nose, the same “I'm better than everyone” swagger as he sauntered into the room.

He rubbed his hands together, a maniacal sort of chuckle coming from him as he came to a stop, staring down the taller male in front of him, the one who was growling at him still. “Looks like you both bought tickets for the Wayne-Wayne Pain Train.”

Was this guy for real?

A laugh bubbled up from Kendall's chest, only to get caught in his throat and die. The scrawny male a few feet over starting changing right before his eyes, his own orbs glowing red like James', the same claws and fangs making an appearance. Only he didn't stop there. He grew about six inches taller, his frame building out, rib cage expanding, shoulders broadening, arms lengthening. His shirt and jacket ripped to shreds, falling to the ground in pieces, his pants tearing but staying on thanks to the stretch waist of the nylon clothing. The sounds of bones crunching and skin stretching filled the room, making Kendall slightly nauseous, only he couldn't move. He was frozen to the spot in awe and fear.

Wayne-Wayne snarled through the stunted snout now located on the lower half of his face, the animalistic lips forming a twisted version of a smirk as he chuckled evilly.

Terror seized Kendall, freezing him. A cold sweat broke out over his skin, his body trembling. His heart was pounding, lungs barely getting enough oxygen. And all he could do was remain crouched, watching in wide-eyed horror as the half-shifted newcomer lunged at James.

Growls filled the room, the sounds like nails on a chalkboard, causing Kendall to cower in fear. His shoulders hunched up around his ducked head, body trying to make itself as small a target as possible, the two other men locking arms in a shoving match. One James was losing.

The blond heard the sound of a fist being punched into someone, the noise thrusting him into action once more. He couldn't just sit there as the man he cared about got his ass kicked. He needed to help, needed to do something, _anything_. Mind focused, he went back to his previous task, trying once more to locate the jeans he'd discarded.

Jaws snapped, teeth clashing, snarls causing shivers to race down the Phoenix's spine. He couldn't see what was happening, eyes trained on his duffel as he shoved everything aside in a hasty manner, desperately trying to find his pants. But the sounds of hits, of body slams, of grunts and light yelps weren't helping, only making him more anxious, more worried that something bad was happening to James.

His hands were trembling as they worked, his eyes barely working in the dim light. But finally he found the jeans, felt the hard rectangular shape in the pocket. He flipped the denim pants around and over and back again, searching almost hysterically to find the pocket hole. Locating it, he reached inside, the knife getting stuck, his trembling hands making an easy job more difficult.

“Come on,” he pleaded through clenched teeth, looking up to see Wayne-Wayne wrap his clawed hand around James' neck.

Panic double inside of Kendall, his mind racing, his breathing labored. He watched as the attacker landed a blow on James' bare torso, another underneath his chin, before shoving him back against the wall. The brunet let out an “oomf” before falling to the ground, unmoving.

“No!” the blond cried out in panic, shooting to his feet, the knife pulling free of the pocket it had been trapped inside.

Wayne-Wayne's head snapped to him, that smirk returning, along with the amused sorta chuckle that accompanied villains. He stalked his way over to the teenager with the grace of a predator, the movement more animal than human, despite still being on two legs. “You're coming with me,” he declared, his voice a rumble that came more from his chest than his throat.

Kendall was still panting, his chest and shoulders rising at a rapid rate, his every breath shaky. But still he stood his ground. He planted his feet, the handle of the knife held tight in his right hand. Instinct had him depressing the crescent shape on it, the knife sliding out, gleaming against the moonlight that was shining through the window. He waited until the Wolf was within range before making his move, his arm moving in a wide arc, striking out at his attacker.

The knife made contact, slicing at Wayne-Wayne's bare chest and causing a thin red line to appear. The Wolf yelped, before letting out a long, loud roar of pain, face scrunching up. Kendall watched as the other male reverted back to his original state, back to the scrawny human, one who was clutching at his chest as he stumbled backwards. The slash the blond had made was bleeding, a strange gray discoloration forming around the edges, spreading outwards.

“You fucking _prick_!” Wayne-Wayne snarled before storming his way towards the teen once more.

Only he never made it.

James came up behind him, easily grabbing hold of both his scrawny arms, gripping them behind his back with one hand, the other wrapping around his throat. “Stab him!” he ordered Kendall, his words carrying a slight growl of their own.

Kendall's head snapped to the brunet, eyes wide, brows slightly lifted in disbelief and shock. “ _What?!_ ” he squeaked out, having trouble coming to grips with what he'd just been told to do.

“Stab. Him,” James repeated through clenched teeth, tightening his hold on a struggling Wayne-Wayne. “ _Now!_ ”

The blond jumped at the final word, at the way it'd been barked out at him. So far the elder male hadn't steered him wrong about anything, had only proved that he could be trusted. Obviously, the leaner male needed to keep believing him and just do as he was told.

Stepping forward, Kendall tightened his grip on the knife before jutting it up into Wayne-Wayne's chest. He felt the flesh give way as the metal pierced the skin, felt it scrape past bone and into something else, something vital. Wayne-Wayne let out another roar, body jerking, back arching as his head tilted back. The teen pulled his knife free, watching as dark lines randomly spread across the darker haired male's skin. No, not randomly; they were the shape of his veins, the path of them, like something was poisoning him through his blood so bad it was visible through his skin.

It barely took a minute, but soon the dark color had taken over the other male's entire body before he went completely still. His head lolled forward, his lean frame slumping in James' grasp, his chest no longer rising or falling. He was dead.

The brunet dropped him to the ground like he was a sack of garbage that he didn't wanna risk getting the stink of on his clothes, giving him one last kick for good measure. Kendall, on the other hand, didn't move, could only stare at the limp form on the floor. He'd killed someone, had murdered them with his own hands, all because someone else had told him to. And worst of all, he felt okay with it.

All right, so he could argue it was self-defense, that if he hadn't stabbed Wayne-Wayne, the guy wouldn't have hesitated to kill James and do who knows what with Kendall. Any court in the land would buy that and set the blond free, the use of deadly force clearly justified.

But that still didn't make him feel any better about his lack of unease over the whole thing.

His shifted his gaze to the knife in his hand, noticing the blood covering the once shining metal. His hand was trembling slightly, adrenaline still pumping through his system, and everything in him felt shaky. He felt like he'd been thrown through a bigger loop than when he'd been told he was a Phoenix. Maybe it was because the reality of everything had finally hit him? Sure, he'd had a feeling something was after him, what with Jett and his constant threats and physical attacks. But it still didn't feel like anything other than a crazed man's delusions. But this? Actually witnessing someone transform before his eyes, seeing the way he changed shapes and became something more animal than human? That made the whole thing real. It was like watching TV in hi-def after only ever watching black and white.

“Kendall?”

He raised his head to the sound of his name, the way it had been spoken quietly, with a great amount of caution and concern. James was standing where he had been a few feet away, hands out in front of him in defense. His fingers no longer held claws, teeth their normal shapes, and his eyes were the same hazel-green hue they'd always been.

“I need you to put the knife down, okay?” he spoke in that same careful manner, like he was speaking to a wounded animal that he didn't wanna spook. “It's silver. I can't go near it.”

Kendall nodded absently, mind too fucked to handle forming words. He placed the knife on the nightstand behind him, reminding himself to clean it before closing it again. As soon as he turned back, James was in front of him, inches away. Hands were framing his face, the hold gentle, the skin rough. Worried eyes were roaming every inch of him, searching for something the blond didn't quite understand.

“Are you okay?” The brunet's voice was slightly wavering, a genuine concern underlying the three words he'd spoken. Kendall watched as his adam's apple bobbed, felt the thumb rubbing his cheek, smelled the scents of 'Cuda manspray, blood, sweat, and James. He swallowed hard as the sensations hit him, his finger mark burning, his head spinning.

“Yeah,” he breathed out, voice barely working. “Not my blood.”

The larger male nodded, breathing out a sigh of relief that made his shoulders slump, the air hitting the smaller's lips. Leaning forward, he pressed their foreheads together, thumb still rubbing the teen's cheek. Kendall lifted his arms to touch him back, only he never got the chance to make contact. James had backed away, moving in a hurried manner around the end of the bed.

“Get dressed and pack your shit,” he ordered gruffly, all the concern and worry that had been there moments ago now vanished, as if they'd never been at all. “We gotta go. Now.”

Kendall still felt numb, shock taking hold of him and rendering him unable to talk. Shock from the attack, from killing someone, from James' fast one-eighty. But somehow, he managed to get his body moving, grabbing hold of the knife before stepping over the corpse on the floor. Using a remnant of Wayne-Wayne's destroyed t-shirt, he cleaned the blood off his knife, having a gut feeling he'd be needing it again.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Blinding lights behind his eyelids woke Kendall up from a dreamless slumber.

He let out a groan as he lifted his head from where it'd been resting on the window, blinking rapidly as he struggled to get used to the sudden brightness. He hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep. He didn't even remember the SUV pulling outta the motel parking lot. Clearly he must've crashed after getting in the passenger seat, the adrenaline wearing off, leaving him more fatigued than before.

No matter the case, he was awake now, green eyes scanning the world outside the window. A convenience store was located a few yards away, a large roof covering them, one holding huge fluorescent lights, the cause of the brightness that had shone through his eyelids.

Getting out of the Explorer, he stretched, loosening knots and kinks that had formed from being in the same position for too long. Rounding the back of the SUV, he found James leaning against it, pumping gas into the tank.

“Where are we?” he questioned, voice rough from sleep, hand scratching his head drowsily.

“Colorado.” The brunet's tone was flat, eyes fixated on the display screen on the pump.

Kendall's eyes went wide as he let out a whiny “you mean I missed it?!”, knowing the other male would understand the reference. With each state they'd passed through, he'd made a habit of pointing out the “Welcome to Wherever” sign, a small amount of giddiness in his voice as he read each one aloud. But he couldn't help it. As much as he missed his foster mom and sister, traveling the states was fun, brought about an excitement he needed to distract himself from the terror bearing down on him and his companion. And with no knowledge of whether or not he'd been through those states, it was just like going there for the first time, a thought which caused a tiny flutter of joy in his stomach.

James turned to him, the apology written on his face with down-turned eyes and drooping lips. “You looked like you needed the sleep more.”

The blond's head see-sawed, eyebrows raising and dropping, seeing the other male's point. At that point in time, he could use all the shut eye he could get.

Deciding there wasn't much he could do about missing a milestone on their travels, he let it go, changing the topic of conversation. “I'm gonna take a leak,” he announced, pointing at the convenience store behind him with his thumb. “Need anything.”

A small appreciative smile formed on the brunet's lips. “Coffee.”

He gave the driver a thumbs up before turning and heading inside the store.

The place was pretty typical, following a set standard for what all gas station convenience stores should look like. Aisles full of random snacks and food items. Large pyramids made of twelve and twenty-four packs of sodas, signs displaying the sale of the moment. Fridges covered the back walls, displaying various drinks, with neon signs for different alcohol brands hanging above the glass doors. Stands were scattered about, baseball caps of varying logos on one, the other full of random nicknacks with countless different ways of telling one they were in Colorado.

The place was deserted, save for one young looking man behind the counter. His hair and eyes were dark, his name tag stating he was “Travis”, and he seemed like a good looking guy. But his smile was _way_ too bright and cheerful for four in the morning—assuming the time on the clock on the wall behind him was right—and it gave Kendall the creeps.

He ignored the cashier, focusing his eyes straight ahead as he followed the sign for the restroom. But he felt as though he was being watched the entire time, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He rubbed there to make the chill go away, but his paranoia remained until he shut and locked the door behind himself.

He quickly did his business and washed his hands, leaving the bathroom and the small amount of safety he'd found. Travis was staring at him once again, wearing a grin that Kendall figured was supposed to be friendly, but given recent events in the blond's life, he was more freaked out than anything.

That little voice inside his head had shown back up, telling him it wasn't safe and that he should leave, but he ignored it, continuing to rub the back of his neck to get rid of the dread that had suddenly appeared. Making his way across the store, he approached the counter of hot drinks, grabbing a large cup and filling it with regular coffee, figuring James could probably do with the biggest size, judging by the dark circles that had appeared under his eyes.

A quick trek across the store once again and he grabbed water bottle from the fridge for himself. He considered grabbing some snacks, too, but quickly dismissed the idea, partially because he had no clue what James would want, but mostly because he wanted to get the fuck outta the store ASAP.

Facing the front counter, he immediately noticed the cashier's dark eyes were still trained on him, watching his every move. It was unnerving, making his paranoia worse. The muscles in his legs twitched, ready to break out into a run, but he forced himself to calmly step over to the counter. He hid his internal freak-out, acted like his heart wasn't pounding and his stomach wasn't twisting in knots as he placed his items in front of the dark haired male.

The friendly/creepy smile was still there, Travis cheerfully bidding him welcome to the store. Kendall forced an uneasy grin on his face, the expression not lasting very long. His eyes roamed the counter, passing over the ads for cigarettes and the pull-out rolls of lottery tickets, soon coming across a small display rack of disposal lighters, each one featuring a different picture: bald eagles, American flags, the Rocky Mountains. And one with a wolf. On a whim, he grabbed it and put it with his other purchases, the rolled up sleeve of his flannel shirt moving with the action, revealing part of his compass mark.

“Nice ink,” Travis commented, a slight malicious edge to the compliment.

The feeling of dread intensified. Kendall's heart stopped, body freezing. Eyes peering up at the cashier, he watched as those dark eyes turned red, claws forming on his fingers, fangs replacing teeth.

Shit.

Pushing against the counter for leverage, Kendall twisted around, feet slipping on the linoleum floor as he tried to bolt out the main door. Only he never made it more than a couple steps.

Travis lunged over the counter, items scattering, hands grabbing at Kendall's shoulders and pulling him down as they both fell to the ground. The blond cried out in agony, landing hard on the floor, feeling claws digging into him. He tried to get away from the pain, only for it to intensify as they were dug in more.

“Quit fighting the inevitable, Map,” the Wolf snarled in his ear, spit flying out and hitting the younger male's skin.

Kendall inhaled on a groan, hands slapping around on the ground as he struggled to pull himself away. The hand on his right shoulder moved, wrapping around his throat and squeezing. His right hand flew to his neck, trying to pry the fingers away, only to have the claws break the skin. Any noise of pain Kendall might've made came out as a wheeze, barely audible over the growls rumbling against his back.

“You know,” Travis started, a sick sort of amusement coloring his words, his mouth right by Kendall's ear. “I could rip your throat out right here and now, kill you instantly, and not get in trouble. 'Cause you'll just come right back to life, no harm done. Quite amazing, isn't it? A li'l burst of flames and poof! Brand new Map.”

The mention of flames had a light bulb going on inside Kendall's brain. Letting go of the other male's fingers on his throat, he felt around with his right hand, fingers hitting the familiar, slightly rectangular shape of a lighter. He pulled it close, using his thumb to adjust the settings from low to high, before flicking it on and pressing it to the hand around his neck.

He felt the heat against his chin, but it didn't register as a burn, the sensation felt more on the mark covering his back. It was, however, immediately felt by Travis, who released his grip on the teen as he yelped out in pain, moving off the Phoenix.

Kendall scrambled to his feet, kicking out widely as he struggled to get a good foothold on the ground. Turning, he saw the spilled coffee, the scattered lighters, the now fully human cashier sitting amongst it all, clutching his burned hand. Red eyes glared up at him, a snarl roaring from a lean chest, and Kendall absently wondered if Jett was the only one of Griffin's minions who had any sorta muscle tone at all.

“You'll fuckin' pay for that, Map!” Travis snarled out, clambering to his feet and reaching out for the blond.

Remembering the lighter still in his hand, Kendall flicked it on once more, the flame igniting with a snickt and a pop. It was only a couple inches high and he found himself wishing it was bigger, that there was more fire he could use to burn his attacker with. Which seemed to be the right thing to do as the flame grew, fanning out and landing on the other male right as he lunged at the teen.

Travis ground to a halt, hands covering his face, flames covering his head and torso as he spun back and forth. Apparently, no one had ever taught this guy about stop, drop, and roll. He screamed out in pain, the scent of burning fabric and flesh filling the area, a sick sort of crackling hitting Kendall's ears.

He tossed the lighter at the flame-covered man, reaching over and pushing him so he stumbled backwards, landing on his ass on top of the collection of lighters. The fluid inside each one was ignited, the fire growing, the screams getting louder and the air getting hotter.

Satisfied his opponent was down for the counter, Kendall turned and headed to the door, scooping up the lighter with the wolf on it at the last second on his way out.

His feet pounded against the pavement as he sped over to the SUV, yelling at James to start the car. The brunet stood on the opposite side of the engine, staring at his companion with a furrowed brow and slanted mouth.

“I haven't paid yet,” he argued, pointing towards the convenience store.

“Doesn't matter,” Kendall replied frantically, yanking the door open and stepping up onto the floor of the SUV's interior, the action lifting him up so he could look over the roof. Making sure his Guardian was staring at him, he pointed towards the store himself. 

The Wolf-Shifter took the hint and peered through the glass doors, his eyes going wide as he realized what had happened. “Okay, time to go.” He rushed out the words, quickly getting in the Explorer. Both males settled in, the engine was started and they soon pulled out the gas station like their own asses were on fire.

“Ya know, I'm starting to think you're bad luck,” Kendall practically yelled out over the roaring engine, unable to control the volume of his voice, even if he wanted to. His adrenaline was still pumping, surprising really, since he kinda figured he'd run outta the stuff eventually. Gripping onto the handle on the ceiling, he willed his body to calm down, only his racing heart and buzzing brain wouldn't listen.

“ _Me_?!” James called out in disbelief, hand flying to his chest and pointing to himself, eyebrow cocked at the other male as he turned onto the on-ramp for the highway.

“Yeah, you!” He glared at the elder male, chest rising and falling rapidly as he continued to attempt in getting his lungs to work normally. “My life was fine until you randomly showed up on my street.”

“No, your life was a _lie_ ,” the brunet argued, gritting out the words through a tense jaw, both hands white-knuckling the steering wheel as he ignored traffic laws once more. “This shit would've happened no matter what, only you'd currently be in Griffin's hands getting tortured so he could get the map.”

The Phoenix breathed out a swear, shoving a hand through his hair roughly and tugging at the messy locks. He knew the other male was right. Didn't mean he had to like it though.

“You wanna tell me what the fuck happened back there?” James demanded to know, angry glare on his face as he switched his gaze back and forth between the windshield and his passenger.

“The guy was a Wolf-Shifter,” Kendall explained, volume lower, aggression gone from his voice. He dropped his hand onto his leg with a slap before continuing. “I saw his eyes go red and his fangs pop out right before he lunged at me. The dude had me in a choke-hold as he pinned me to the ground from behind before I lit him on fire with a lighter.”

It was the elder male's turn to mutter out a curse word, hand smearing over his face before returning to the steering wheel. “Not good that they're all the way out here.”

The blond snorted. “No shit.”

The comment went ignored, James continuing on as though the younger male hadn't spoken, talking almost more to himself than his passenger. “Next pay phone we come across, I gotta call Lucy.”

Kendall frowned at the female's name, not recalling who she was, nor being all too happy with James knowing her. Who the fuck knew what kinda relationship the two of them had, if there were any feelings between them in the past, or even now. “Call her for what?” he questioned in a slightly acidic tone.

The brunet turned to the blond, dark eyes serious, wide, his face saying that he wasn't all that happy with it, but had no choice. “To beg.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

They drove for another hour before James pulled off on a random exit, parking in the lot of a gas station. The place seemed closed for the night, but it still made Kendall uneasy, the recent events at the last one he'd been to still fresh in his mind.

The brunet got out, striding a few feet over to a pay phone, taking his cell out to get the number he needed. The teen didn't pay much attention, his focus on himself. His shoulders no longer ached where his skin had been pierced, his throat no longer feeling raw. He figured it was probably a Phoenix thing to have aches take less time to dissipate, making him glad he was a freak. First time for everything.

Upon further inspection, he noticed tears in his flannel shirt and the tee he wore underneath, noticed blood on both clothing items. Investigating more, he discovered his jeans had coffee stains on the shins, most likely from when he'd been pinned to the ground after the drink had been spilled.

He suddenly felt disgusted with his clothes, no longer wanted to be in them, not for another second. And with the car at a standstill, now was as good a time as any to get rid of them.

Exiting the SUV he landed on the tar with a light thump. James was busy with his conversation, not paying an ounce of attention to his passenger. Hell, Kendall could probably run for the hills—or Rocky Mountains in this case—and the brunet would be none the wiser.

Except the idea of leaving the elder male made a hole appear in his chest and a nauseous feeling to take hold of his stomach.

Shaking his head, he headed to the rear of the Explorer, opening the back door. His duffel was closest, making it easy to unzip it and grab a fresh pair of jeans and a tee. He emptied his pockets as he kicked off his shoes, making sure not to lose anything, before removing the flannel shirt, dropping it to the ground. Next went the tee, then the jeans, an absent thought about how it was lucky the gas station wasn't open and that the sun still hadn't risen. No way in hell would he do this in daylight or with others around and trying to change inside the vehicle—as spacious as it was—didn't sound fun.

Now clad only in his boxers and socks, he twisted his head to look at his bare shoulder. The clawmarks Travis had made were healed over, scabs covering them. They looked like they'd been made a day or so ago, not an hour. He didn't have a mirror in front of him, but chances were the bruises around his neck were almost, if not completely, gone.

Returning his focus to the inside of the SUV's trunk, he grabbed the clean pair of jeans, only to stop when he heard the low rumble of a growl. Except it wasn't the sound of a threat, didn't scare him, didn't make him wanna jump in the back of the Explorer and shut the door as he cowered in fear. No, this was something more... sexual, something that caused his dick to twitch and his mark to burn as arousal hit him seemingly outta nowhere.

Turning his head in every direction, he tried to locate the sound's origin, pausing when he came across James. The brunet was turned towards him, staring right at him with glowing eyes. His fists were clenched, body tense, a noticeable bulge now visible in his jeans. And the mark on his finger was glowing, just as Kendall imagined his was.

The blond inhaled sharply, the air getting caught in his lungs as they stopped working. He imagined the other male hanging up the phone, stalking over, pinning him against the SUV. He imagined their lips crashing together in a hard kiss that was more passion than technique. He imagined the two of them grinding against one another as they had in bed back at the SafeHouse, both rutting as their erections rubbed, turning each other on more and more until they were both desperately panting with need.

His teeth sank into his lower lip, his dick hardening in his boxers to a painful length. He had to clench his own fists around the jeans he was holding so he wouldn't start rubbing himself right out in the open. But god did he want to, did he want the other male to do it for him. He wanted fingers wrapped around his cock, lips, tongue, anything. He just wanted to feel _something_ as he was worked closer and closer to that inevitable conclusion and have it be because James had brought him there.

But it wasn't gonna happen. James inhaled deeply, holding his breath as he turned away from Kendall and continued his conversation, the growls cut off.

Rejection was a slap in the face Kendall could practically feel the sting of, colder than the sudden breeze that swirled around him and cut him to the bone. He felt naked, though he still had clothing on, felt inadequate, felt like he was more of a freak than he had before.

Tears stung the back of his eyes, but he refused to let them fall, sniffing defiantly. He wasn't about to let the bastard get him down.

Shoving his legs into his jeans, he got dressed in a huff, feeling a little angry that he once again let James upset him over something so stupid, making him feel pathetic. Well no fucking more. From here on out, Kendall was gonna be better than that, stronger, refuse to let anyone make him feel bad for any reason.

Swiping his white tee over his head, he grabbed his ruined clothes off the ground, stomping his way over to a nearby dumpster. He threw them in with more force than necessary, taking his aggravation out on inanimate objects. Glaring at the green metal, he mentally tossed in his inability to stand up for himself with James. More things were gonna change than just his outfit. He was gonna make damn sure of it.


	3. Part Three.

Despite the unusual circumstances surrounding what he was, Kendall's life seemed to be full of stereotypes. The diner he was currently seated in was another example of that.

The place looked like every other diner one would see in movies. The color scheme was robin's egg blue, pastel pink, shining chrome, and creamy white. Booths lined the window-covered walls, cracked linoleum on the tops of all the tables. The floor was a black and white checkerboard. The counter was lined with stools, the seats of which were all worn out and sunk in from decades worth of asses sitting on them. And above the rectangular opening that peered into the kitchen, was an Elvis clock, his legs swinging back and forth, _You Ain't Nothin' But a Hound Dog_ blaring from it when the hour had struck six.

James had glared at it, seeming to take offense with the accusation.

Neither male was talking, Kendall still groggy from having just been woken up with a harsh shove and a gruff “get up, we're here”. He hoped his coffee would do its job fast and wake his ass up fully so he'd be better prepared to handle whatever terror was thrown his way that day.

Not the cheeriest thought to have in the early hours of the morning, but considering how things were going for him lately, it was smarter to be realistic and expect trauma—whether physical, emotional, or mental, maybe even a combination of the three—than to be optimistic and think that day was gonna bring sunshine and rainbows. No one liked being wrong or having their hopes dashed. Believing he was in for a good day would force both of those to happen.

He looked across the booth at his companion, noticing the worsened fatigue on James' face. The bags under his eyes were worse, hair sticking in every direction but the right one, shoulders slumped as he huddled over his own cup of joe. He looked like he was forcing himself to stay awake, that if his head even so much as touched the table, he'd be out like a light but he was refusing to let it happen. Kendall couldn't blame him. The guy had driven most of the day yesterday and then most of the previous night. Add in panic over the Key of Manifleiss, the fight with Wayne-Wayne, and then the incident at the gas station, and the result would be one exhausted Wolf-Shifter. Although the blond wasn't sure if “exhausted” was a strong enough word.

The bell over the door rang and Kendall lifted his head, peering over James' hanging one at the entrance a few booths down. A petite blonde female was looking around the diner, apparently trying to find someone, bottom lip between her teeth as she searched. James lifted his hand and waved, not bothering to turn around, and Kendall watched as the newcomer stopped worrying her lip and began smiling as she headed towards them.

She moved with the same sorta grace James did, the motions fluid yet efficient, seemingly acutely aware of every inch of her own body without letting anyone else know she was. Her steps were determined as she advanced, her chocolate brown eyes hard yet friendly. Curls bounced with each movement, adding to the angelic appearance of her round face, something that seemed to match her white skinny jeans and fluffy pink sweater. Kendall had to wonder how the girl as outwardly sweet as this one would meet—and become acquaintances—with a guy like James.

She slid in the booth next to Kendall, friendly grin still on her face, though it was more plush lips than teeth as it had been. The waitress came over, quickly getting her drink order—“coffee. As strong as possible. I'm gonna need it”—before disappearing behind the counter again.

A frown formed on James' face as he leaned back, body still slumping, only now against the booth rather than over the table. “Jo,” he acknowledged the newly arrived female, his tone curt but still somehow remaining well-mannered. “Where's Lucy?”

“She and I both agreed it would be better if I came, considering how she still doesn't really like you,” the female dubbed Jo replied, folding her arms over the table. “And now you know the reason why.” She arched an eyebrow as she gave him a pointed look, lips twisting to the side.

Kendall watched as James' face seemed to pale, all expression leaving his features. His eyes turned downward, staring at the saucer his mug sat on, thumb rubbing the outer rim of it as he swallowed hard.

The waitress returned with Jo's coffee, the blonde replying with a thanks and a “that'll be all”. Extra party now gone once more, she spoke to James. “So it's true then.” A statement, not a question, her voice not judging, but not entirely thrilled with whatever secret knowledge was being passed between the two of them.

The brunet looked up with sad eyes, a hopeless expression on his face as he leaned forward, a hand on his chest. “I swear I had no idea,” he vowed solemnly.

She shrugged a delicate shoulder, brown doe eyes more focused the task of pouring a small container of half-n-half into her coffee. “I believe you,” she commented, sounding as though the whole thing was no big deal.

“Think you can get Lucy to believe me, too?” James' tone was hopeful, pleading, and Kendall turned to Jo hoping like hell the answer would be yes, just for the other guy's sake.

She lifted her eyes, meeting the dark ones that stared at her across the table in optimism and desire. “No. That's _your_ job.”

He slumped back in the seat with a “humph”, pout on his face, brow drawn down in a sulken expression. Kendall reached out to hold his hand, to comfort him in some way and let him know it'll be okay, only to remember that it wasn't allowed, nor would it be welcomed. So instead, he grabbed the ketchup bottle, pretending he was interested in reading the label since he had no clue what the hell their conversation was about.

“So. You're the Map, huh?” Jo questioned in the same way she might ask “so, you're from Minnesota, huh?” It was friendly, chipper, a small amount of curiosity that spoke more of wanting to get to know someone rather than judging or gaining info for more illicit reasons.

But the question itself still had a negative effect on Kendall. His head snapped to her, eyes wide, panic making his heart race. Whereas days before that inquiry had him thinking the person who'd asked was insane, it now had him worried about why someone would need to know that, _how_ they knew it, if they were out to get him and take him back to Griffin for who the hell knew what kinda treatment in order to use the map in his head.

He forced out a laugh, making himself smile and shake his head in a _who is this crazy chick?_ sorta fashion. “No,” he lied, trying to sound carefree but feeling like he was coming across as fake as he felt. “Who said anything about a map?”

Jo raised an eyebrow as she tilted her head down, her lips curved at one end. The “really, dude?” went unsaid, but was as evident on her face as the light dusting of freckles over her nose and cheekbones. Elbow on the table, she pointed at the mark on his left arm. “You might wanna cover that thing up,” she offered with a crinkle in her nose. Her demeanor was polite, kind, making it known that it was just a friendly suggestion and that she wasn't after him for any villainous reasons.

Even still, Kendall's eyes went wide, his hand flying over to hide the compass mark. That was twice in a matter of three hours that his mark had been spotted and that his purpose in life had been found out. The first time had resulted in him being attacked in the middle of a convenience store. He was lucky as hell that his second time was by someone who was an ally, and not an enemy.

As far as he knew anyway.

James sighed from across the table, rolling his entire head, appearing tired of Kendall's idiocy when it came to this entire situation. He removed his leather jacket from around his muscular frame, handing it to the blond without a word. The younger male took the hint and put it on, the mark instantly hidden. The leather was soft and worn in as it hung off his lean frame, nearly swallowing him, the collar up around his neck. He could smell the familiar scent of the jacket, as well as the Cuda manspray and James' natural musk that had rubbed off on it. He resisted the urge to bury his nose in it and let out an “mmm”, instead folding the collar down so temptation was a little easier to resist.

“Thanks.” He gave the other male a tiny grin, feeling a little sheepish for his mark being spotted again. He needed to pay more attention, needed to focus and make sure he was aware of his appearance at all times.

James didn't say anything, didn't respond in any way. Face flat, he turned and stared out the window, peering up at the sky.

The hurt stung Kendall, but he refused to show it, hiding it by bringing his mug to his lips and drinking deep.

A dainty hand laid on his shoulder, his head turning to see Jo giving him a sympathetic smile. “Rookie mistake,” she stood up for him, rubbing his shoulder before dropping her hand. “Just be glad yours is easily hidden and not on your neck.” Both her eyebrows raised, her head tilting to the side, giving him a pointed look. Turning away, she picked up her mug and drank, tipping her head back to drain the last remnants of her coffee. The action caused her blonde curls to fall back, allowing Kendall to see the mark she was referring to: a crescent moon, just like James'.

Kendall sat up straighter in his seat, body turning towards her. His curiosity had been piqued, his mind buzzing with excitement and interest. “You're a Wolf-Shifter, too?” He had to consciously make sure he didn't yell, that he controlled the volume of his voice, yet he couldn't hide the jovial tone in his voice. Really, that level of joy should've been reserved for finding another Phoenix, especially after James telling him that they were rare. But for some reason, he was more stoked to find someone who was like the brunet.

A grin formed on her face, her body language changing. She sat upright, flipping her hair over her shoulder to show the mark more. Her face was practically glowing and as she spoke, pride was dripping off every word. “Yep. Guardian just like James.” Her smile turned smug as she peeked over at the mentioned male through the corner of her eyes. “Trained him, too.”

“Nuh uh.” Kendall had trouble believing that. She appeared like she was his age, maybe a year or so younger. He wasn't sure if it was her style of dress or the smooth, youthful look of her skin, but she seemed as though she should've met him in the halls of his high school back in Minnesota.

“Yuh huh,” she mimicked, smirking at him, before her face grew serious, her tone grave. “It's my job to protect Lucy. Although she doesn't really need it.” Her lips twisted quizzically, before she shrugged and seemed to let it go.

Kendall felt that earlier pang of jealousy stabbing at his heart, constricting around his throat. But unlike the choke-hold he'd been placed in only hours ago, there was no hope of trying to fight it off and get rid of the pressure.

Hiding his emotional reaction, he consciously put a tone of curiosity in his voice. Not that it was hard, since he genuinely _did_ want to know the answer. “Who's Lucy?”

Her whole face brightened from the inside out, her eyes literally glowing a golden light. A slow grin formed on her face as she tucked her hair behind her ear, teeth sinking into her bottom lip in a demure sorta way. His curiosity grew even more at her reaction, her expression not one that one would generally wear when talking about the person they were in charge of protecting.

Then again, his experience with Guardian-Protected relationships was limited to just him and James, and the brunet tended to be a closed-off grump who rejected even the smallest amount of flirtation. For all he knew, he and James were the exception, Jo and Lucy the norm.

“She's a Knowledge Mage,” Jo answered, the same sorta pride in her words as had been when she spoke about her duty as a Guardian. “She knows everything about everything. You have a question about any topic in the universe—” she swept a hand across the air for emphasis “—and she can give you the answer like that.” She snapped her fingers to demonstrate.

“Meaning hopefully she can give us some answers to ours,” James spoke up, voice flat, not seeming very hopeful at all.

Jo nodded in agreement, lips in a slight pout, before smirking. “But first,” she started, raising her arm and signaling for the waitress. “We eat.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Jo hopped in the backseat of the SUV, giving directions to Lucy's house. Not once did she request shotgun, nor did she complain about her position. The only thing she really did was give Kendall a “oh please” look when he told her to stop leaning forward between the front seats and get her belt on. He figured asking how she got to the diner in the first place would earn him another one of those looks so he kept his mouth shut on that one.

The route to the house took them to another driveway that was hidden amongst trees, one James managed to pull into solely due to quick reflexes he'd told Kendall all Wolf-Shifters have. And after some of the things the blond had witnessed him doing, he believed it.

The house was set half a mile or so back from the main road, giving Kendall a sense of deja vu from the time he and James had gone to the SafeHouse. Only instead of there being a cabin in the clearing, it was a two-story Colonial style house with white siding and black shutters and door. It seemed like the kinda place that should be surrounded by a huge yard, with a dog or two running around the grass as its chased by the kids, Mom laughing at the antics as she took the laundry off the line, Dad pulling up in his nice sedan after his nine-to-five job. But instead, it was in the middle of a forest.

He wondered how it got there, why it was there, why this style house in this location, but didn't voice any of those questions, knowing there were more important things to figure out.

James followed the driveway as it curved before the house, parking by the wide front steps that led up to a porch that lined the entire front of the building. A petite female stood at the top of the stairs, hip cocked out, arms folded over her chest, waiting, watching as the three of them exited the car. Lucy, Kendall assumed.

Jo was the first up the steps, taking them two at a time, a bounce in her step that made her hair fly about her face. She rubbed the darker-haired female's bare arm, giving her a small smile, before entering the house on her own. But Lucy remained there, hard eyes on the two males as they ascended the steps.

“James,” she greeted him flatly, not sounding pleased to see him. Her almond shaped eyes were lined in black, scrutinizing as they looked the taller male up and down, her eyebrows wagging in a _not much I can do about that_ sorta way.

Kendall remained a step behind his Guardian, green eyes taking in the female. A light tan was on her skin, exposed by the black halter she wore, the words _Sex, Flames and Rock 'N' Roll_ spelled out in red glitter. Black leather pants hung low on her hips, baring a couple inches of flat stomach, her feet bare. Black hair was streaked with red, pulled back into a bun. Kendall thought there were chopsticks stuck in it, but when he got closer, he realized they were actually drumsticks.

Her black eyes turned to him, painted red lips forming a lopsided smile of sorts. “Hello, Kendall,” she spoke in a warm tone, friendly with him and not his counterpart.

He raised an eyebrow in question. “Have we met?”

“Nope.” She popped the “P”, the smile gone but her face still open and welcoming. “But I know _all_ about you.” Her eyes sparkled with some sorta mysterious knowledge, like a secret was being passed between the two of them, one he couldn't figure out. But before he could question anything, she spoke up. “Come on inside.” She then turned to James, scowl back on her face. “Guess you can come, too.” Another eyebrow wag of dismissal, then she turned and sauntered to the front door, allowing Kendall to see her exposed back.

And the wings of tribal flames mark that spread across her shoulders and down her spine, disappearing behind her halter.

Lucy was a Phoenix, too.

The three of them headed into the living room, where Jo was setting a large tray of four mugs and a small kettle on an oversized red velvet ottoman that sat in the middle of the space. Overstuffed black loveseats were located on either side of it, contrasting the white walls that surrounded them. There was no TV that Kendall could see, but framed posters of classic rock bands like the Rolling Stones and AC/DC decorated the walls.

Lucy curled up on one end of a loveseat, Kendall seating himself on the one opposite. James stood there, viewing his other options, before deciding there was no way he was gonna sit on a beanbag. Shoulders slumped, he plopped down next to Kendall, leaning against the arm of the loveseat, propping his head in his hand.

Jo poured liquid from the tea kettle into each mug, placing them on the corners of the tray. Drinks served, she settled on the loveseat next to Lucy, sitting close despite there being ample room for both small females to be comfortable and not squished together. Yet they remained side by side, Lucy's feet pressed against Jo's thighs.

Kendall would've analyzed it further, had his mind not already been completely occupied by one thought and one thought only. “You said you know me,” he questioned the raven-haired female, sitting on the edge of the seat.

Lucy laid her forearm along the side of the loveseat, a study in relaxation. He had to admit he was jealous of it, of her ability to just laze there as though she hadn't a care in the world. Meanwhile, his brain was buzzing with a million questions, still searching for answers about who he was, not to mention the map contained within that led to an object he'd never heard of. Oh, and then there was the whole people chasing after him, trying to kidnap him so he could lead them to said object or be tortured until he gave up the map. Either way he'd probably be killed at the end of it all.

No matter what, he wasn't about to relax and take it easy. Not anytime soon anyway.

“Yeah, I knew your family,” she informed him, her voice light as if she was talking about some random mutual friend they had, not a group of people Kendall couldn't remember, nor was he sure he even met before.

The announcement of that had his heart skipping a beat, hope fluttering inside his chest. His back straightened, body leaning forward as he stuttered out excitedly. “You—you know my family? Do you know if—”

“Don't,” Lucy ordered, holding a hand up before letting it drop onto her folded legs. “Don't ask questions you won't like the answers to.” Her brow was furrowed in sympathy, almond eyes turned down at the sides.

The heavy look in her eyes had his face falling, slumping back against the loveseat. Despite her youthful appearance, her dark orbs seemed to be much older, appearing as though they had decades of experience and knowledge in them. Remembering that Jo described her as a Knowledge Mage who knew everything about everything, he had to take her word that any inquiries about his family would be meet with answers that would cause more anguish than not knowing their whereabouts.

Didn't mean it didn't still suck though.

“D'you know what your middle initial stands for?” she question, head tilted to the side, lips pursed.

He snorted at the idiotic moniker the cops had given him. “Doe.”

“At least they were close this time,” she muttered, Jo nodding in agreement, before speaking to Kendall once more. “It's actually Donald.”

His face scrunched up in disgust, his head shaking. “That's fucking lame.”

She smirked, mischievous glint in her eyes. “In another life it was Francis.”

“Fuck! That's _worse_.”

“Can we talk about the Key please?” James butted in, loudly, voice full of the aggravation that was showing on his face.

Lucy turned and glared at him, twisting her hardened jaw around in annoyance. The expression was wiped away, replaced by an expression that was so happy and accommodating, there was no way it was anything but sarcastic. “Sure, James,” she replied, the fake joy spreading to her tone as she batted her eyelashes.

Kendall was reminded of his last conversation with Katie and the faux-cheer she'd had imitated in her own way. He absently hoped she was okay, that Jett hadn't, in fact, shown up at his foster home in an attempt to find him. The thought of anything bad happening to her caused a raw ache in his chest and he shoved all worries over her well-being aside, adjusting his attention so it was centered on the raven-haired female curled up across the way from him.

“ _Anything_ I can do to help you.” Lucy's overly cheerful smile disappeared, another glare back on her face before she gave him a pointed look. And just like outside, Kendall had the feeling some sorta secret was being exchanged as the two locked eyes.

James broke eye contact first.

The brunet focused on the Led Zeppelin poster to his right, hand covering his mouth, hiding the fact that he was chewing the inside of his lip. But Kendall could see it in the hard line of his jaw, in the way the muscles on the side of his face were ticking. There was something huge he was missing between Lucy and James. He just didn't have a clue what the hell it could be.

Lucy rolled her eyes as she slightly shook her head before waving a hand in dismissal at him. “What Key are you referring to?”

“Manifleiss,” Kendall answered, knowing James was in another mood, meaning he wasn't gonna speak to anyone about anything.

“Hmm.” She tilted her head to the left, lips twisting as she stared off into space, like the answer was randomly written in the air. “Manifleiss was actually a powerful Mage, one who dabbled in a lot of dark arts,” she started before focusing on her two guests. “He figured out a spell that would allow someone to gain an unlimited amount of power, giving them the ability to do whatever they want with pretty much no consequences.”

“Like getting revenge for the mistreatment of Half-Breeds,” the blond commented, alluding to Griffin's motivations.

The Mage must've known that was what he was referring to, judging by her next statement: “Griffin's not a Half-Breed.”

Confusion had Kendall's head rearing back, giving her a sideways look. The entire time he'd been believing that's what the villain was, that he hated the Ministry because of how they treated his kind, because of how he and others like him were second class citizens. Only now he was wrong, had been misinformed.

Because he hadn't been thrown through enough loops here lately.

“He's a Wolf-Shifter,” Lucy continued, eyes locked onto Kendall's so he could see the truth in them. “A _full_ one at that. He's sick of them being used as servants, Guardians, Soldiers, tools for other people's bidding. He thinks they should be the ones in charge given their abilities and what they can do. That's why he's after the Key. If he figures out how to get that power, he can threaten the Ministry to bend to his whim, or destroy it.”

Kendall turned and glanced at James, trying to gauge his reaction as a fellow Wolf-Shifter. Was he sick of being used? Did he hate his position as a Guardian? Was he wanting more outta his life? Did he agree with Griffin and what the Legion leader wanted?

However James was feeling about this situation, he wasn't showing it on his face. His features had tightened up, eyes narrowed, brow scrunched, lips pinched. Kendall wondered what it meant, but knew it wasn't the time or place to ask. He'd have to wait 'til later.

Focusing on the topic at hand, the blond turned back to Lucy, voicing the question on his mind. “But what does some spell have to do with the Key?”

“Manifleiss knew the spell would do an incredible amount of harm if it fell into the wrong hands,” the Mage explained, face as serious as her tone. “So he hid it away somewhere no one knows about, locking it up for safe keeping with a key. That he also hid.” She added the last part with an eyebrow wag and a bob of the head to the side, a wordless _of course_.

He nodded, understanding, thinking it made sense. “But I only know where the Key is?” he wondered aloud, hoping she'd know the answer to that, too.

She shrugged, lips tilted up in a _who the hell knows_ sorta way. “Maps only ever lead to one thing or one place. So chances are, yeah, you only lead to the Key and not the spell itself. Griffin would have to find another Map who had the answer to that.”

“If he hasn't already,” James muttered out, drawing Kendall's attention. But the brunet didn't meet his eyes, instead twisting his head around to peer out the window behind him. He moved the gauzy red curtain out the way and parted the blinds with his fingers, peeking out through the glass. Kendall noticed Jo had also straightened up in her seat, eyes narrow, lips slightly parted in question. A moment later, he heard the sounds of a car pulling up and parking, the door opening and shutting, steps up the wooden stairs of the porch.

“It's me!” a female voice called through the front door. “I come bearing gifts of bagels!”

Jo's face perked up, a wide grin spreading across it. “Ooh! Carbs!” She hopped up onto her feet and bounced towards the front door, Kendall staring after her in puzzlement.

“What's up, blondie?” Lucy inquired, causing him to switch his attention back to her.

“Nothing, I—” he paused and shook his head before rubbing the back of his neck. “Girls back at my high school in Minnesota would run screaming _from_ carbs, not towards them.”

A wistful smile appeared on the raven-haired female's face, a serious look in her eyes. “You know you can't go back there, right? Your life in Minnesota is over.”

His hand dropped onto his lap, right as his heart sank. “Yeah. I know,” he pointed out lowly, a sad tint to his words. And he _was_ aware of that fact. Just hearing it out loud made it more real, made the sting of it a little harder to take. While he didn't exactly have a picture perfect life there, he still enjoyed it, still liked the foster home he lived in, the make-shift family he kinda had with Jennifer and Katie. He was gonna miss them and the small amount of normal he'd had there.

His eyes moved to James, taking in his profile as he stared straight ahead, eyes narrowed in concentration. Giving up his life in Minnesota would've been worth it had the Guardian been warmer, kinder, had opened up and not fought any attraction that was between the two of them.

Wishful thinking, he figured.

'Cause he hadn't done enough of that over the past six months.

Jo returned, giant paper bag in her hand and a huge grin on her face. She plopped down onto her previous seat, this time curling her legs up beside her, mimicking Lucy's position. Reaching inside the bag, she pulled out a wrapped item, tossing it to James, who caught it without a word.

“You're late,” Lucy stated randomly before turning to the entryway.

Following her line of sight, Kendall noticed the newly arrived female. She was petite, probably about the same height as the other girls, her brown hair full of tight curls. Brown doe eyes were set in her porcelain face, pink lips curved into a smirk of sorts as she eyed the Mage. Her top hung off one bony shoulder, appearing like a white tee that had been cut up to be shorter and hang loose about her. Her skirt was a long flowing one covered in repeating patterns of just about every color and underneath the bottom, she wore no shoes. The term “hippie” came to mind, but didn't quite seem to fit, not entirely.

Hands on her hips, she exuded a huge amount of confidence as she stared the raven-haired female down. “Oracles are _never_ late,” she stated, nose in the air, then pointed at James and Kendall. “ _They_ were early.”

Kendall's eyes went wide, mouth doing its goldfish impression as he struggle to respond. The chick was nuts, right? There was no way they were early, not when they weren't even sure if they'd be coming here. Hell, the decision to visit Lucy hadn't really been finalized until only a couple hours before and it wasn't like there was any set time to when they should show. How the hell they could be early was beyond him.

Jo nodded as she chewed a mouthful of food, her cheeks puffed out like chipmunks, distorting her happy smile. Lucy shrugged and checked her black nails for chips, like it was all out of her control and she just couldn't seem to find a damn to give about it. James was the one who had to speak up.

“We ran into some unforeseen circumstances back in Nebraska,” he explained, unwrapping his own food and revealing the sausage and bacon bagel sandwich Jo had tossed him. “Our hotel room was attacked.”

“Wayne-Wayne,” the newcomer sighed out, rolling her eyes as her arms folded over her small chest. She sounded more like a kindergarten teacher who was just told her notoriously troublesome student was caught dumping sand on another kid again.

The male Wolf nodded, taking a bite of his sandwich, not seeming surprised that she knew.

Kendall, on the other hand, was. Not to mention he had no clue who she was or if he should be talking to her. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, he folded his arms around himself, the leather of James' jacket creaking with his movements, drawing attention to him rather than allowing him to shrink and hide like he wanted.

The curly haired female turned to him, smiling sweetly, revealing perfectly white teeth. Kendall noted a beauty mark above her lip and absently wondered if it was real or drawn on there. “How'd you enjoy the food at the SafeHouse? I made sure to get your favorite Frosted Flakes.” She gave him a conspiratorial wink, smirking as though they were sharing some sorta secret. One he wasn't entirely sure he was clued in on.

Her statement had his confusion doubling, a small amount of realization following. She'd stated that oracles were never late, something James had informed him existed. Logic and a bit of “duh!”-ness meant she must've been one. “You're an Oracle, right?” he questioned, pointing towards her as he scooted forward in his seat.

“That I am,” she replied jovially, fanning her skirt out before curtseying.

He swallowed hard before speaking again, unable to hide the hope from his voice. “Do you know about me? Where I come from, I mean.”

She straightened up, face scrunching up as she shook her head. “Sorry. I can only see the future, not the past. _But_ —” she began, her tone changing to a happier one, a finger pointing in the air as if to tell everyone in the room to hold one for a moment. “I _can_ tell you that you are not an ordinary Phoenix.”

Lucy scoffed from her seat across the room, rolling her black lined eyes. “Oh please, Camille,” she commented, sounding a little offended. “There's no such thing as an _ordinary_ Phoenix. We're too fuckin' awesome to be ordinary.”

Camille—who Kendall now knew her to be—rolled her eyes, waving a hand of dismissal at Lucy as if shoving away the statement. “But Kendall's more than that,” she explained, hands on her hips. Despite her tiny build, she had a very commanding presence, that inner-confidence in who she was and what her abilities were making her seem larger than life. He found himself in complete awe of her, despite the fact that she looked small enough for him to pack inside his duffel and carry around without breaking a sweat.

She continued speaking, her voice very matter of fact, but also holding a small amount of pride in it. “He's gonna be a huge player in the future of the Ministry and our planet as a whole.” Her closed-lip smile beamed when she turned to him, like a mother boasting about her child's accomplishments.

Kendall snorted. “Right. 'Cause I'm the Map to the Key of Manifleiss,” he added in a self-deprecating manner.

A wry grin formed on James' face as he peeked at the other male before turning to the front again. “Too bad we don't have a starting point.”

Camille's grin grew, lighting her entire face, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Oh, but that's where you're wrong.”

Kendall and James looked at each other, eyes locking, wordlessly exchanging the same thought: neither of them had a clue what she meant.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Camille left not long after she arrived, claiming she had another emergency she had to take care of. She left with promises they'd meet again, giving Kendall a pointed look before leaving.

Kendall felt road-weary, about ready to pass out, so rather than try to fight exhaustion and continue conversating with everyone else, he asked if he could take a nap somewhere.

Lucy led him upstairs to a guest bedroom, opening the door and allowing him to enter first. He took a look at his surroundings, noting the royal blue walls and white carpet. The furniture was white as well, with silver trim, giving the room a slight modern feel with its hard lines and rectangular shapes. But it was the bed that really caught his attention, or more accurately, what was on it.

In addition to the white bedding was a round blue throw pillow with the Fantastic Four logo on it.

He turned to her, eyebrow raised in question. “Human Torch joke?”

An apologetic smirk formed on her face as she shrugged, then held up a hand. “Flame on,” she joked, flicking her fingers and lighting them all on fire.

His eyebrows went up, impressed at the feat. He'd been told Phoenixes could create fire, but like everything else, it was an entirely different situation when it was witnessed.

She balled her fingers up, outing the flames, giving him a friendly smile. “Have a nice nap, Kendall.” Giving him a pat on the arm, she turned and sauntered off down the hall, leaving him be.

Kendall shut the door before lumbering over to the bed with heavy steps. He kicked off his shoes and removed James' jacket before flopping down on top of the comforter and burying his face in the pillows, inhaling the scent of laundry detergent and the slight incense smoke smell that seemed to permeate every inch of the house. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and fell into a dreamless slumber soon after.

When he woke up, the sun was lower in the sky, the room darker. He had no clue how long he'd slept, but the crick in his neck and the stiffness in his back told him it must've been a long time. Standing up, he stretched, working his tense muscles loose before exiting the room and heading back downstairs.

Reality hit him when he slipped into the kitchen unnoticed. James appeared to be chopping some sorta vegetable, Kendall able to see the various symbols on the inside of his forearms. Jo was next to him, chattering away about something as she helped rinse the veggies in the sink, her hair pulled back in a messy bun of sorts that showed off the crescent moon mark on her neck. Lucy was seated on top of the island counter, laughing, her back to Kendall and showing off her Phoenix mark.

It was then that he remembered that this wasn't a normal road trip, wasn't a normal hang out with friends. They were all supernatural creatures with the weight of the world's future on their shoulders. He heard pieces of their conversation, phrases about training and Guarding and Shifting, words that wouldn't normally be used that way in a typical discussion between humans.

Unable to handle anymore of it, he turned and headed out the door to the left, taking him outside onto a deck. He gripped the railing as he looked down at the ground a story below, focusing on his breathing. Air was hard to get into his lungs, a tightness constricting his chest. His vision was wavering, spots dancing behind his eyes, and his stomach was rolling and twisting. Panic seemed to be stalking him, a constant presence now in his life, making itself known once again.

He couldn't deal with this, couldn't take another second of talk about Wolf-Shifters, Phoenixes, Oracles, and Keys. He wanted to go back to Minnesota, to just be a seventeen year old kid, to only worry about his homework and getting to his job at Sherwood's Grocery on time and avoiding Jenny Tinkler's path of destruction.

The door opened behind him, but he didn't look, only dropped his head and continued to breathe as normally as he could make himself.

Soft feet padded over to him, the sounds of someone lifting themselves up onto the railing to his right. The scent of incense and sandalwood accompanied it, a smell he was recognizing as Lucy's. A quick peek out the corner of his eye and he was able to see the leather of her pants as she swung her legs back and forth.

“It's a lot to deal with, huh?” she questioned, the sympathy evident in her voice.

He let out a snort, resting his elbows on the railing, cupping his hands behind his neck. “Too much, really,” he muttered out, only halfway caring if she heard. Dropping his hands, he stared at the forest stretched out before him, thinking of the woods back at the SafeHouse, noting the difference in trees and brush. “Thirty-six hours ago, I was just another seventeen year old—well, minus the amnesia thing,” he conceded, tilting his head to the side before straightening it and continuing on with his original point. “But now? Now I know that I'm not even human. I'm some super special fuckin' Phoenix who's gonna be responsible for the survival of the entire planet.”

The tightness returned to his chest, his stomach knotting up again. He felt his breathing getting shaky, his hands trembling in front of his eyes, the anxiety that had barely receded flaring back to life.

“I can't handle it,” he admitted in a barely there whisper, his voice as shaky as he felt.

A lump formed in his throat, tears prickling the back of his eyes. He was only one person, no matter what sort of creature he may or may not be. And even if he'd been fully aware of what he was his entire life and had a complete grasp on what it meant and what he could do, he still worried that he wouldn't be good enough, capable enough of completing the task set before him. A huge player in the future of the world, that's what Camille had said. He was only seventeen, for fuck's sake. He shouldn't be dealing with this, didn't _want_ to deal with this. The thought of it all made him panicky inside and he had to resist the urge to go hide under the bed until all the bad stuff went away, just like a li'l kid.

A light hand rested on his shoulder and he turned to Lucy, taking in the small tilt to her lips, the look in her eyes that wordlessly said she believed in him. “You can handle it,” she reassured him, voice kind. “If you couldn't, then the job wouldn't have been given to you.”

He snorted, looking away from her, shaking his head. A small wave of anger hit him, his jaw tensing, eyes narrowing, glaring at the trees as though it was their fault he was the way he was. “Not like I had a choice really,” he spat out, right hand subconsciously moving over to cover the compass mark on his left forearm. Fury colored his words, the phrases tumbling out of him with a hostile tone. “I was born a Map, born with this burden and this bullshit. I've been forced into this position, all the shit around me making it so that it's all up to me whether or not evil triumphs and that I can't remember shit about who I am or what I am or any-fucking-thing like that. I'm just stuck with this shit and there isn't fuck all I can do about it except be forced to deal and I can't.”

His head hung when he was finished, a heavy sigh leaving him along with his rage. It felt good to get it all out, to put his thoughts out there for someone else to hear. And granted it wasn't all of what he'd been putting up with, it was enough to make him feel a little better, some of that weight off his chest.

A long moment of silence followed his rant, Lucy being the one to end it.

“You regained knowledge of your powers yet?” she asked curiously, tone light, especially when compared to the anger-heavy words he'd just rolled out.

He looked at her with an eyebrow raised, wondering when exactly he was supposed to do that when he'd only found out what he was a day and a half ago and that entire time had been spent running for his life with a Wolf-Shifter.

She slid off the railing, landing silently on the wooden deck and facing him. “I could give you pointers,” she offered as she adjusted her shirt around her waist, shrugging her shoulders as though it didn't really matter to her either way.

Kendall wasn't entirely sure where the proposal had come from, what had inspired her to make it, but it wasn't something he figured he should turn down. Phoenixes were a rare species, he remembered, meaning the chances of him meeting another were slim to none. If one was willing to help him learn about himself and what he was capable of, he should let them and be damn thankful the entire time.

Straightening to a standing position, he faced her, noting the height difference between them. But just like Camille, she had a confidence that made one feel smaller than her, that reminded one that she was something larger than life and that she should be treated as such.

Satisfied smile on her face, she tilted her head up to meet his eyes, hands held up. “Okay, the whole thing is ninety-nine percent mental,” she explained, wiggling her fingers. He figured it was some sorta hint and he raised his own hands, holding them just like hers. “What you gotta do is visualize the fire inside of you, inside both of us. It's what makes us who we are, what allows us to come back after what should be a fatal blow.”

He nodded as he took the info in, frowning as he tried imagining a fire inside of him, picturing his organs in flames. Probably not right, but it was all his brain could come up with at the time.

“Now, picture that fire spreading to whatever part of your body you want it to,” she went on, voice calm, even, putting him at ease. “Imagine your fingers on fire. Picture the tiny flames that would appear at the tips, how they'd look, the way they'd dance, the color of them.” Instructions wrapped up, tiny flames sprang to life on her fingertips, just as she'd described.

Kendall took a deep breath, blowing it out through puffed cheeks before turning his focus to his own fingertips. He imagined the flames that were on Lucy's fingers on his own, remembered how they looked when he'd experimented in the kitchen back at his foster house in Minnesota. He thought of the melding of yellows and oranges, the small glow that surrounded each flame. He thought of the miniscule amount of heat each one gave off, the smoke that wisped up above each fire, the barely there scent.

But nothing happened.

He frowned more, trying harder. He was mentally pushing himself, breath held as he struggled. His face twisted into a grimace, lungs burning, features hurting. A minute or so later, he could no longer continue, exhaling harshly as he let go, body slumping forward as his arms dropped. He breathed out a swear, feeling like a total failure.

“Hey, don't worry,” Lucy spoke up, her tone reassuring once again, hand on his shoulder. Hands on his knees, he tilted his head up to meet her eyes, viewing the kind look in her eyes, the small curve of her red lips. “Everyone needs practice and you have _plenty_ time to do it.”

Nodding, he let his head hang again before straightening up, eyes still trained on the wood below his feet. It never really occurred to him that being unable to be killed meant he'd just continue to live, that he wouldn't one day just expire of old age. And now that he was aware of it, it left him with a strange feeling inside.

Turning to the right, he looked through the glass window, watching James sauntering over to the table with a large bowl in his hand, a smile on his face as he laughed at something Jo had said. Kendall wondered how long James would live, if he aged, if the blond would have to one day deal with the fact that the Wolf-Shifter had died and now he was alone for the rest of eternity.

He suddenly felt incredibly alone, depressed, scared. But most of all, he felt like he was missing someone who was still around.

“Come on,” Lucy cajoled, moving to Kendall's side and sliding her arm inside his. “Let's go get some dinner. Trust me, the last thing you wanna do is leave Wolves alone with all the food.”

He looked down at her, seeing the playful grin on her face, one that he couldn't help but smile back at. Lucy would still be around, that much he knew. But nothing would ever replace James for him, nor did he ever want anything—or anyone—to.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Dinner passed by without incident, conversation flowing, although Kendall didn't contribute much. Lucy and James had apparently gotten over whatever issue was there, the tension no longer between them, both laughing and joking along with Jo.

After they were through eating, they headed to Lucy's library, all four doing research on the Key, only to come up with nothing more than what Lucy had already told them. There was also practically no information on Manifleiss himself, meaning there were no clues as to where to start searching for his Key. Which left pretty much the entire world to examine.

Awesome.

Lucy offered to let Kendall and James spend the night, the twosome grabbing their duffels from the SUV before following her upstairs. The Phoenix was giving the same room he'd napped in. The Wolf-Shifter one across the hall.

Because he'd requested separate rooms.

Kendall hid the hurt he was feeling, the rejection that had once again punched him in the gut. Instead he bid goodnight to his host and her...Guardian, he supposed, then headed into his room.

He showered in the adjoining bathroom, mind filled with a thousand thoughts, none of which he could keep up with. The Key. Manifleiss. The spell. Griffin. Wolf-Shifters. Phoenixes. Powers.

The last thought stuck with him, his lessons with Lucy out on the back deck repeating in his head. Shower wrapped up, he put on a pair of clean boxers, standing in the middle of the bedroom as he practiced.

Only he got nowhere.

Again.

He tried everything he could think of. He tried visualizing the fire inside, the flames on his fingers. He breathed evenly, held his breath, did stupid lamas breathing like he was in labor. He even tried saying “flame on!”, thinking if it worked for the Human Torch, it would work for him.

Still no success.

Kendall let out a harsh sigh as he dropped his hands, frustration mounting. How the fuck was he supposed to be any use in helping save the world? Maybe he _was_ just simply a GPS, only with one location programmed in.

And no fucking start point.

Totally awesome.

He shoved a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth across the room. He felt stupid, useless, worthless, the damsel in distress who was no aid to her—or his—own cause, just a burden to the hero.

A knock sounded out, the door opening anyway, Kendall turning from his position on the opposite side of the room. Sliding into the room was James, hand wringing the back of his neck, brow in a hard line on his face. Kendall felt his heart stop and his breath freeze in his lungs as he took in the other male's shirtless form. Unlike the first time he'd seen it—well, first time he could _remember_ seeing it—there was a light on, allowing him to view everything. He could see the flat expanse of his pecs, see the lines carved in his stomach and side, see the V that separated his hips from his torso. The crescent on his neck was visible, as well as the markings on his forearms, and an inverted star at the hollow of his throat. Perfectly tan skin covered the hard muscle beneath, skin Kendall wanted to cover with marks of his own made with his teeth and lips. He wanted his tongue to run over all those lines delineating each muscle. He wanted his hands gliding over smooth skin as the two of them moved together in synchronization, drawing each other closer and higher and...

Fuck, was he turned on right now.

James inhaled sharply, hand dropping, fingers curving into a fist. His body became tense, like he was fighting to stay where he was, chest no longer rising and falling while he held his breath. And his eyes, those dark orbs that Kendall had gotten used to, were glowing once again.

“This was a mistake,” James commented lowly, words choked out as he forced himself not to breathe.

“Wait!” Kendall called out, stepping forward, hand outstretched towards the other male. He dropped it, clearing his throat from the raspiness that had appeared with his arousal. “I mean.” He shook his head, trying to figure out a good excuse for why he'd just yelled out like that, other than his pathetic reasoning of just not wanting James to leave. “You came here for a reason, right? What'd you need?”

The brunet hesitated, swallowing hard. He was breathing again, albeit shakily, but the tenseness was still in his body. The teen could see the muscles in his calves twitch, as if they were getting ready to move, and he had to resist the urge to run over and wrap himself around those legs to stop James from walking out.

First hiding under the bed, now clinging to someone. Apparently he'd turned into a five year old at some point that day.

Licking his lips, James met Kendall's eyes, the golden light dimming slightly. “I just,” he started then stopped, frowning before letting out a disbelieving laugh. “I figured I should stay with you. Ya know. To make sure you don't go off wandering in your sleep again.” A small smirk was on his face, a lightheartedness to his words that didn't match his outward appearance. He was still hard, still controlled, still fighting to remain where he was.

The blond cocked an eyebrow, not buying the excuse. As far as he knew, he'd only ever sleepwalked once in his life, and that had been at the SafeHouse. He hadn't done it the night before, a fact he knew James was aware of. So clearly the guy was lying through his teeth.

But he didn't wanna call the elder male on it, didn't wanna risk him leaving for any reason. And to state that he knew James was full of bullshit was a great excuse for the larger male to turn and leave, to decide that Kendall didn't want him around so he wouldn't be, even if the blond tried to argue that fact. So instead, he just acted like he believed it.

Kendall let out a small “all right”, his body humming. His mark was tingling on his finger once again, his dick twitching under his boxers and he had to fight to keep his hands by his sides, figuring covering his growing erection would just draw more attention to it.

James gave an uneasy smile, turning to flip off the light before padding over to the bed. Kendall remained frozen for a long moment, finally willing his legs to work and joining the other male. They laid side by side, both staring at the ceiling, silent.

It was torture laying that close to the man he wanted and not being able to do anything about it. He was painfully aware of everything in the room, the scent of James, that manspray, woodsy, wolfy scent that made him up. He could hear the brunet's breathing, the shuffle of his skin on the sheet as he got comfy, the harsh inhale and slow exhale he let out. He could feel the heat rising off the elder male, the way his mark was tingling more, a dull burn on his finger. The brunet was tense, rigid, hard, and all Kendall could think about was rolling over and trying to ply away some of that tension with his mouth and hands.

But he knew his advances wouldn't be welcomed, would instead make James leave, so he went with an alternate option, asking the one question that had been in the back of his mind all afternoon.

“James?” he called out quietly, pretty sure the other male was still awake but not wanting to chance accidentally waking him up. He heard an inquisitive “hmm?” and took that as a sign to keep going. “What do you think about Griffin's ideas about Wolves? You think they should be the top ranking species, stop being servants?”

A different sort of rigidness came from James. It was no longer a fight to remain where he was and not give into whatever temptation was eating at his brain; it was now a discomfort of sorts, his body reflecting how his mind and emotions were closing off. He swallowed audibly, eyes shutting, jaw tense.

“I don't wanna talk about that.” The words were choked out, sounding like he was trying to speak around a lump in his throat.

“Well, I do,” Kendall argued, eyes fixated on the other male. “You can't keep shutting me out like this, can't keep holding me at a distance.” He chanced moving his hand over, covering the brunet's with his, feeling the heat rising from the mark on his ring finger. And as their skin made contact, his own began burning more, no longer a slight sensation that could be ignored. “Just let me in, let know how you fee—”

He never got a chance to finish his request. James had turned onto his side, leaning over Kendall and smashing their lips together.

He supposed it was mostly just to shut him up, but as he felt the other male's lips on his own, his entire body roared to life. His hands slid to the back of the elder male's head, tangling in brunet locks, holding him in place so he couldn't leave. He moved his lips, feeling James' do the same, the two moving in a rhythm that spoke of an instinctual knowledge of the other person, that despite the memory loss, Kendall still knew how to work the other male's mouth against his own.

A hand gripped his shoulder, James holding onto him, his bare chest hovering over the smaller male's. Kendall arched his back, pressing them together, his skin tingling where he felt them touch. A warming sensation had started over the mark on his back, but it was nothing compared to the one on his finger. It felt like it was on fire and he could envision the red glow he'd witnessed on it that night in the woods outside White Castle when James first told him who he was.

Experimentally, he lapped his tongue against James' lips, licking along the seam, requesting entrance. But instead of it being granted, the brunet slid his tongue inside Kendall's mouth, pressing insistently against the smaller male's tongue, starting a battle that he easily won. He mapped out every inch of the wet cavern, paying special attention to small areas that had the blond exhaling in harsh pants, whines slipping past their joined lips.

Kendall felt his heart pounding wildly outta control, a dull heat covering his entire body. His cock was a hard ache beneath his boxers and his hips started rutting on their own. Twisting, he curved his pelvis so he was able to press against a large thigh, rubbing his erection against it. He groaned at the contact, the sound swallowed by James, continuing to move his hips.

The brunet pulled away, eyes emitting a golden glow as they glanced back and forth between green ones. Both were panting, both were trembling, and all they'd done was kiss.

Who the hell knew how they'd be if they actually went further?

He was more than willing to find out though.

As if he knew where the younger male's mind was, James tried moving his head away, only for Kendall's grip to tighten on the back of his head.

“No,” he pleaded breathlessly, sounding pathetic and needy even to his own ears. “Don't pull away.”

“Kendall.” His name was a heavy sigh from the brunet's lips, a silent beg on perfect features. A large hand wrapped around his wrist, threatening to remove his hold, but he dug his fingers in more, refusing.

“Please,” he breathed out, rubbing his nose against James', brushing their lips together. “Please.”

The elder male swallowed hard. “We can't.” A silent apology joined the whisper, regret etched on the lines of his face, kiss-swollen lips turned down.

“Yes, we can.” He kissed him, lips pressing insistently against the other's for a long moment. “It's okay. It's not love, it's not sex. _Please_.” He moved his hips, rubbing against the larger male's thigh, moaning against his lips.

It seemed to break James' resolve, a growl rumbling up from his chest as he smashed their lips together in a kiss that was pure lust and possession. He moved so he was laying on top of the smaller male, settling between his legs, their groins perfectly aligned. And as he ground his hips down hard, Kendall groaned louder than before, able to feel the other male's erection against his own.

Their hips moved together, giving and retreating in a practiced rhythm that had both breathing heavily, both moaning. James' arms wrapped possessively around Kendall, pulling their bodies together more, pressing them from groin to chest. The blond could feel his blood boiling, red hot lava flowing through every inch of him, a fire raging inside that there was no chance of putting out.

He pulled away from the elder male's lips, gasping for air as his eyes burst open. His hands moved to broad shoulders, fingers digging into smooth skin, feeling lips move along his jawline, down the side of his neck, to his collarbone. Hitching a leg up, he wrapped it around a slim waist, grinding his hips up even harder, needing more.

A hand traveled down his side, stopping to take hold of his side in a bruising grip. Teeth sank into his flesh where shoulder met neck, a territorial mark, the action causing him to cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure. He could hear James groan, feel it against his skin, feel the stuttered breath of the larger male as he struggled to keep himself contained.

“Kendall,” he moaned out breathily, hand moving from hip to the back of the blond's head, pulling the long strands of hair. “Need you.”

The quiet admission had Kendall's heart skipping a beat, his arms wrapping tighter around the larger male. He pulled himself up, pressing more against him, his skin blistering hot. He wasn't entirely sure, but he felt as though he was seeing steam rising from his hands, his arms. He gave up trying to find out when James shifted so he was moving at a different angle, causing Kendall's eyes to shut and his head to tilt back as he cried out the other male's name in ecstasy.

James' hips moved in earnest now, his actions speeding up, his rhythm lost. He buried his head in the crook of Kendall's neck, grunting against his shoulder. Sweat covered both of them, helping their chests glide together smoothly, the scent of lust and sex filling the air.

Kendall kissed every inch of skin his lips could reach, tasting the salty perspiration and a spicy after-note that he knew to be James. Lust had completely overridden every thought he'd ever had, his need to come outweighed only by his desire to feel the other male orgasm and know that he was the cause.

“Come,” he begged quietly. “Please.”

“You—” James started, cutting himself off with a moaned out curse. “—first.”

Kendall groaned in a mix of frustration and arousal, not the response he'd wanted. He felt the other male's tongue licking down the side of his neck, lapping up the sweat that had pooled along his collarbone, a grumble of satisfaction rumbling against his chest. A hand was rubbing up and down his side, thumb playing with his hipbone, squeezing his obliques.

“Oh, fuck, come, Kendall, please come,” James breathed out in a rush, panting harshly.

The blond focused on the sensations wracking his body: the heat burning him from the inside out, the pressure of a hard cock against his own, the way his spine was tingling and his dick was twitching and his lungs aching from the lack of proper oxygen. And all of it was because of James.

He opened his eyes, observing the elder male hovering above him, observing the golden-glow in his eyes. And with one last grind against his pelvis, his orgasm shot out of him, soaking his boxers and James'. It kicked off the elder male's, Kendall feeling the come spurting out and the throbbing of his cock. Another wave of ecstasy washed over him at the knowledge that he'd caused that reaction, a satisfied smile forming on his face.

James kept his hips moving for a few moments more before collapsing on top of the smaller male, arms bracketed on either side of him, head on a lean shoulder. Kendall kissed his skin, his shoulder, his cheek, his hair, anywhere he could reach, his hands roaming up and down a muscular back. Both of them were slightly shaky, both panting. He could feel the larger male's heart pounding against his bare chest, the out of control rhythm matching his own. It was more satisfying knowing the brunet was just as broken down as he was, just as torn apart in the best sorta way, than the orgasm he'd had himself.

They laid there clinging to each other for a long time, Kendall unsure of exactly how much time. Eventually James found the strength to lift his head, locking eyes with the male below him. The glow was still there, only now a dull golden hue, like someone had put a shade over it. Wrapping his arms around the back of his neck, the blond pulled him down to connect their lips. The kiss was missing the earlier raw intensity and sexual heat, but it still held the same passion and desire as before, a wordless expression of how they felt about one another.

A long moment later, they parted, Kendall rubbing his nose against the other male's. “Stay,” he whispered.

James nodded, rolling over onto his side. Arms still around the smaller male, he pulled him close, tucking him against his chest. The blond snuggled into the brunet, head on a large bicep, eyes drifting closed as he slipped into a deep slumber.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Kendall woke up alone.

And judging from how cold the other side of the bed was, he'd been alone for a while.

Frowning, he sat up, scratching his head. He'd gone to sleep with visions of waking up next to James, of getting a bright smile and a cheery “good morning”. He'd thought about what a turning point the night before had been for them, hope filling his chest that maybe things would be different, the elder male more open and receptive. He wasn't delusional enough to think he'd receive heartfelt confessions of undying love or anything like that, but he was hoping that maybe they could be a little more affectionate with each other, a kiss on the cheek here, a hug there, holding hands as James drove them to California.

Apparently none of that was gonna happen.

He quickly showered then dressed in clean clothes, putting on a flannel shirt over his usual plain white tee to cover his compass mark. Skipping the shoes for the time being, he headed downstairs, finding Lucy alone in the kitchen, sitting on a stool at the island counter, one leg drawn up to her chest as the other was curled underneath her.

She paused reading the open newspaper in front of her, lifting her head to check who'd just arrived. She gave him a friendly smirk, light twinkling in her eyes as she took him in. “Mornin',” she greeted him cheerfully, still smirking as she ran a hand through her loose straight hair. 

He nodded her way in acknowledgment, hiding the disappointment he was feeling at James not being in the room. Rubbing the back of his neck, he tried to think up a way to ask her where the other male was without seeming rude or like he didn't care about her. Not the best thing to do, to offend one's host, not after she let them stay the night at her house and gave them information they desperately needed.

“Jo and James are in the basement,” she stated, solving the dilemma for him. “There's a training room down there so they went to go spar, let off some steam.”

Kendall's brow furrowed, a small sense of unease and guilt tingling at the back of his mind. “Just a basic 'hey, let's practice all our moves' kinda deal or—?” he trailed off, shrugging, acting as though he wasn't worried James had run off because he'd pushed him too far. After all, it was his begging and his insistence that they fool around, the brunet saying they couldn't. It wouldn't surprise him if he _had_ forced the guy into needing an outlet, needing an escape from him and all his pressure into opening up and doing something he wasn't comfortable doing.

Lucy shook her head, eyes back on the newspaper. “Nah. Wolves are notoriously aggressive creatures and just need to let it out every now and then.”

A quiet relieved exhale left him as he nodded then gave an “all right.” Hand working the back of his neck once more, he wondered what he was supposed to do now, whether he was supposed to keep her company or let her read her paper in peace.

Once again, she solved his problem for him. “Feel free to grab some breakfast if ya want. Coffee's in the machine, mugs above it.” Head still tilted down, she lifted her eyes to him, smirking once again. “I'm sure you could use some after last night.”

He muttered out a thanks, eyebrow raised at her happy disposition and the knowing look she was giving him. Ignoring her, he set about making his coffee, easily finding the things he needed, before joining her at the island. Neither said anything, Kendall drinking his cup of perk-me-up, Lucy reading her paper like before.

Until she broke the silence, as she was prone to do.

“Wolf-Shifters are interesting creatures,” she spoke outta nowhere, her eyes still focused on the black type before her. “Did you know they can smell arousal? It actually adds to their own, makes them horny themselves. Of course, it's more intense and more of a turn on when it's their mate who's the one that's horny.”

Kendall's eyebrow raised once more, mug halfway to his lips as he stared at her, lips slightly curved into a sneer of sorts. “What?”

She lifted her obsidian eyes, the black eyeliner already on, despite the fact that she was in what he assumed to be her pajamas, giving the pattern of flames on her pants and the sleepy cat on her tank. “They can also hear exceptionally well,” she continued on as though he wasn't giving her a _I'm totally fuckin' lost right now_ expression. “They can pick up the smallest noises, even through walls.” Her eyebrows raised, impressed, before she went back to boasting on the supernatural creatures. “So when two men are going at it and fooling around in another room in the house, a Wolf-Shifter can hear it and it gets her going.”

Shit.

Kendall pretty much choked on his coffee, sputtering hot liquid about before coughing. Embarrassment flooded his cheeks, his entire face heating up. He was busted, his late-night activities with the other male overheard and commented on. What he'd thought had been a private act was known by the other members of the house and it was all his fault. He hadn't given a second's thought to anyone else, what they might be listening in on, whether they were trying to hear it or not. All he'd been thinking about was how good it felt during the moment and how he wanted more.

Selfish much?

Lucy giggled, that smirk still there. Reaching over, she laid a reassuring hand over his forearm, telling him not to worry before drawing it back. “I had a great night,” she told him with a wink.

Kendall's earlier confusion came back as he used the back of his hand to wipe away the coffee that had been spat all over himself. She was obviously implying that Jo had been aroused by what she'd heard James and Kendall get up to, and that Jo had worked out her desires with Lucy. Only he'd been under the impression that wasn't allowed, given their relationship.

Taking a drink to soothe his sore throat, he placed his mug back on the counter before speaking. “You and Jo seemed like a lot more than just Guardian and Protected,” he pointed out, his voice free of judgment, but with a slightly curious edge to it.

Closing her paper, Lucy leaned forward, arms folded on the counter as her black eyes leveled on him. “I could say the same to you, especially considering the Mate Mark on your finger,” she rebutted with a slightly defensive attitude, pointing to his left hand.

The blond automatically covered it up, instinct telling him that it wasn't supposed to be seen, even if he wasn't entirely sure why. Then what she'd said hit him. “Wait, Mate Mark?” he questioned, fully turning to face her.

“Yep,” she responded, popping the “P” as she smirked again. “Matching Marks show up on the left ring finger of Mates after their first time, well, mating.” She see-sawed her head, eyebrows bobbing. “It's a way to show soulmates, to let everyone else know that you're taken and who you belong to, as well as who belongs to you.” She held up her left hand, showing the mark on her own finger: a crescent moon with a flame rising from the bottom point. “I belong to Jo, and Jo belongs to me,” she stated, proud smile on her face, a twinkle in her eye.

Kendall wrapped his hand around her slim wrist, moving her hand closer so he could get a better look at it. “And they just magically appear after sex?”

“More or less,” she replied, not seeming annoyed by all his questions. “It's somewhat of a gradual appearance over a day or so, not like your other marks—the flames on your back, the compass on your arm—that take a week or so to fully emerge after your twelfth birthday.”

He nodded to show he understood, releasing her wrist and sitting back on the stool. He thought back to what he'd witnessed of Jo and Lucy, the way they sat closer than what would be considered normal, the light touches between the two of them in the library, the exchange of smirks, the twinkling eyes as they spoke. The two of them were clearly in love, clearly had some sorta connection between them, further proven by the matching marks on their fingers.

But one thing still stood out in his mind, a repeating phrase that was about to drive him insane. Eyes on his own finger mark, he gave voice to the confusion in his head. “But I thought romantic relationships between Guardians and their Protected are forbidden.”

“If you're in the Ministry,” she added, giving him a pointed look. “Which I'm not. I left decades ago. Jo followed me soon after.”

A small amount of panic welled up inside at that fact. As far as he knew, all supernatural creatures such as himself belonged to the Ministry, and those who didn't worked for Griffin. If she'd left the former, then chances were she was with the latter. Meaning he was in danger.

“Whoa, relax,” she suggested, hand laying over his forearm. He realized then that he'd tensed up, that he was preparing to flee, and willed his body to calm down. “I'm not in the Legion either. I'm more of a free agent. Although that being said, there's no way in hell I'd help those assholes out. I'd rather be tortured and killed a million times over than give them any information.”

Kendall let out a slow exhale, his body finally following her command and relaxing. Sinking back into his seat, he felt her hand slide away, still feeling the reassuring pressure there.

“All that being said,” she began, waiting until she was sure she had his full attention. “There's always things you can do in order to get around rules. If you really wanted to.”

He slowly nodded, bringing his mug back to his lips and drinking deeply. His mind began wondering if James would do that for him, if he'd be willing to find a way for them to be together without either of them getting in trouble, only to halt that train of thought before it left the station.

He had a feeling he wouldn't like the answer.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Breakfast was a bowl of soggy cereal, Lucy not commenting as she once again became engrossed in her newspaper. A companionable silence was a third member at the island, Kendall too wrapped up in his thoughts to actually hold a conversation. His mind was going over her earlier words with a fine tooth comb, analyzing and over-analyzing every syllable, twisting and turned them over until they were something he could barely figure out. Then he'd move on to the next nugget of info he'd been given and repeat the pattern.

Food eaten, he lumbered his way upstairs, noticing the door to the spare room opposite his was open. Curious, he peeked inside, finding James there. He was fresh out the shower, water droplets still clinging to his spiked up hair, the scent of steam and soap wafting in the air. Unfortunately for Kendall, he was fully dressed in his usual uniform of black jeans and a dark tee—today's a dark blue—and was in the process of putting his fingerless gloves on.

Lucy's statements came back to him, the info she'd given him about the Mate's Mark, the matching one he and James both had on their fingers, the ones that seemed to glow and burn whenever they touched. It was obviously a sign that there was something between them that was more than just Guardian and Protected, that they were soulmates, meant to be. Factor in the photos from the SafeHouse and the way they'd come together the night before, the two of them were clearly in love.

And, okay, maybe Kendall had forgotten about that, had forgotten about James, but that couldn't be helped. He'd lost all his memories when he'd been killed in the forest outside White Castle. But James hadn't. He'd kept every memory, every thought and feeling. He'd known they'd been in love when he watched Kendall on his street that day. He'd known what had happened between them in the past when he saved the teen outside Sherwood's Grocery. The entire time he'd been fully aware of what had transpired between the two of them, yet he'd kept it all to himself.

The blond couldn't really believe it. If the situation were reversed, he'd try everything in his power to make sure the other male knew they'd been a couple, knew they'd been in love. And he'd show it through his every action, showering him with affection, small touches and glances, just like Lucy and Jo. He wouldn't keep the one he loved at a distance, wouldn't try to hide anything. Rules or not, he'd make sure that person was fully aware that they were loved and just how much.

Annoyance became the dominant emotion in his head, a sort of aggravation at things being kept from him once again. Inviting himself in, he shut the door, standing there with his arms folded and his feet planted firmly on the ground.

“Wearing those to cover your Mate's Mark?” he questioned, not bother to hide the hurt or the anger from his voice. Because it did hurt like hell to see James do that. It was like rejecting the teen all over again by denying that there was anything there, by hiding this proof of their love and relationship and how they were fated to be.

The brunet turned to him, brow furrowed, confused sneer on his face. “What?”

“I talked to Lucy,” Kendall explained, trying to keep his voice calm and even. “She told me about the marks on our fingers and what they mean.”

The color drained from James' face and he turned away, eyes trained towards the ground. The blond studied his profile, taking in the frown, the slight nodding action, the way he was chewing his bottom lip. Clearly the teen had stumbled onto something and if he wanted all the info out, wanted an explanation, he needed to keep going.

“You hide it,” he pointed out. “You don't let anyone—including me—see it. Why? Because you're ashamed of us? Because you don't wanna be with me? Because you hate the fact that you've fallen in love with a guy or a Phoenix or—?”

“Because I don't want us getting in trouble,” James growled out, interrupting, his head snapping towards the younger male. Turning, he stared him down, hard lines etched on his face. “Kendall, if they find out about us and what we did, we'd be in some serious fuckin' trouble.”

“But the Ministry isn't here,” Kendall reminded him, his voice rising in volume. “Who the fuck is gonna find out?”

The brunet opened his mouth to speak, only to shut it, thinking twice about what he was gonna say. His eyes turned away, taking in something on the wall to Kendall's right, before quickly looking away.

Twisting his head, the blond followed his previous line of sight, noticing a hung piece of artwork. It appeared to be some sorta tribal picture, a culture's rendering of a Phoenix. Without even meaning to, James had just given him a huge clue about the inner-workings of his mind.

“Me,” Kendall realized quietly, turning back to the brunet. “You didn't want me to find out.”

He felt small, stupid, hurt once more. James had clearly not been on the same wavelength Kendall would've been had the situation been reversed. He didn't want them to know they'd been in love, had tried everything he could to cover it all up and deny it, despite all the evidence pointing to the contrary.

“Kendall—”

“No.” He held up a hand to stop him from speaking, waiting until the other male's mouth was shut. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, jaw tight, eyes narrowed. Anger was back again, roaring with a vengeance, making his hands shake. “Don't fuckin' do this to me, okay? I have enough shit being hidden from me by my own fuckin' brain, all these missing memories and having no clue who the fuck I am. I don't need you keeping it from me, too.” Anger turned to frustration, tears prickling the back of his eyes. His tone shifted to one of desperation, pleading with the other male. “I need your help. I just—” He paused, shoving a hand through his hair as he tried to figure it all out, dropping it with a slap on his thigh. His vision was blurry as he locked eyes with James, hoping he could say more with the look than he could with the words that were struggling to form in his head. “I can't do this without you. Please just help me figure out my own life.” His voice had given out, the last word barely leaving on a harsh breath and he had trouble keeping the tears behind his lids.

James moved towards him with purpose driven steps, not stopping until he was right up against the smaller male. Without a word, he grabbed hold of Kendall's face, kissing him deeply, passionately, a kiss that was returned without a second's hesitation.

They locked lips for a long moment, James being the one to pull away, forehead pressed against the blond's. “I'm sorry,” he whispered, before releasing his hold on him and leaving the room.

Kendall stood there stunned, more hurt and rejected than ever before. And all he could think about was how it wouldn't sting nearly as bad if he wasn't fully aware of just how much James loved him.

He didn't need any memories to tell him that much.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It didn't take long for their bags to be packed back up and the SUV loaded. Jo had made sandwiches for the trip—James getting two that were twice as large as Kendall's—before giving Kendall a hug that nearly crushed his bones. She might've been petite, but underneath the dainty exterior was a power he couldn't begin to figure out, something that had him constantly surprised when she showed her strength. And each time, he'd mentally apologize for underestimating her and try to remind himself that he won't do it again. Only for it to happen anyway.

He hugged Lucy second, thanking her for everything.

“Anytime,” she replied, pulling back but keeping a grip on his upper arms. “And if you _ever_ need anything ever again, just call and I'll be glad to help.”

He returned her smile, thanking her again, before getting in the car. Less than a minute later, he and James were heading down the long driveway toward the main road.

“How far away are we?” Kendall asked, partially outta genuine curiosity, partially to break the stifling silence that was filling the spacious Explorer.

“Denver is pretty much exactly halfway between Minnesota and California,” he answered flatly, not tearing his gaze from the windshield. “We should arrive sometime tomorrow, but we're gonna hafta stay at a hotel again tonight.” The last part of his statement was said through a clenched jaw, brow disappearing below his aviators. It was obvious he wasn't too excited over having to share a room with Kendall once more, and after their last chat in Lucy's guest room, the blond wasn't overly thrilled with the prospect either.

Silence descended once more, the Explorer moving from the driveway to the road, James following the signs towards the necessary interstate. His body was hard again, muscles tight under his t-shirt, grip on the steering wheel as white-knuckled as ever. Kendall took in his appearance with sad eyes, wishing things could be different between them.

“You're gonna be cold and distant again, aren't you?” he asked quietly, already resigned to any form of the word “no”.

“It's for the best,” was the muttered response.

Kendall turned away, head tilting down, noticing he was rubbing his finger mark again. He didn't agree with James' POV, yet had no idea how to make the other male change his mind, stuck in a hopeless place where he was rejected and alone, a stray animal caught in a blizzard.

That cheery thought in mind, he stared out the side window, wondering which fairy tale had the damsel constantly being pushed aside by the hero.

Then again, nothing about his current situation said “fairy tale”; it spoke more of “nightmare”.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was the most awkward car ride in the history of car rides. Or at least that's what Kendall was naming it. Nothing was spoken, other than fast food drive-thru orders. It wouldn't have been so bad had there been music playing, but the only sounds that had filled the SUV were the noises of the engine, the wheels on the interstate, and other cars they passed.

It was torture, pure and simple, bad enough to where Kendall would've actually volunteered to listen to Justin Bieber.

They drove as close to the Nevada-California line as possible before James pulled into a hotel parking lot, killing the Explorer's engine. Only neither male got out, the two of them sitting there in the quiet, the engine ticking and popping as it cooled down. It was unnerving and Kendall had to resist the urge to scream in order to break the silence, to just stop himself from going completely insane from all of it.

If he hadn't already gone insane, that was.

He sighed harshly, staring out the front windshield at the terracotta building before him, at the entrance lane that allowed cabs to pull up and drop off their fares before driving away to their next destination. They still weren't in California, had a whole 'nother day of this, of awkward silence that made him want to pull his hair out and yell until he was blue in the face and raw in the throat.

Rather than risk doing permanent damage to any body part, he spoke calmly, with a hint of annoyance in his voice. “Are you gonna give me the silent treatment the rest of the trip?”

James turned to him, his aviators having been put away some time ago, brow drawn in question. “The fuck d'ya want me to say?”

Kendall snorted, jaw hard as he ground his teeth. He rubbed the back of his neck before letting his hand fall with a slap. “Nothing,” he choked out. “Forget it.”

He couldn't be around James anymore, couldn't take being in that godforsaken car for another second. With more force than necessary, he opened the door and stepped out the SUV.

Only to be shoved against the back door by an unknown assailant.

His eyes went wide, a gasp and a grunt leaving him. He was vaguely aware of his name being called out, of a car door opening and shutting, of feet rounding the engine and someone being knocked down with an “ooff!” But all he could truly focus on was the forearm pressed to his throat, the other against his chest, and the glowing red eyes filling his line of sight.

“Hello, Map,” the words were snarled out through fanged teeth, an evil smirk surrounding them.

One of Griffin's goons.

The pressure on his throat increased, his air cut off. He gasped for breath, heart pounding in fear and adrenaline. He felt his panic rising, hands clawing at the forearm under his chin. His feet kicked out, trying to do some damage, but missing.

The dark-haired male holding him in place moved closer, getting in Kendall's personal space. “You and I are gonna go on a li'l trip. As soon as my friend disposes of your li'l bodyguard, of course.” He sounded smug, victorious, the forearm on Kendall's chest pressing down more and making him wheeze out.

Stars danced in his vision, black surrounding the edges, closing in. His lips flapped up and down as he struggled to take in air, receiving none. He was gonna pass out. He was gonna lose consciousness. James was gonna get hurt.

No.

A lightbulb flickered on in his barely functioning mind, a reminder of sorts. He kicked his legs out in distraction, left hand clawing at the arm over his throat as his right reached into his jeans pocket. His knife was exactly where he'd put it that morning before he left Lucy's, his fingers fitting around it easily. He carefully drew it out, pressing the moon to make the blade slide out. And in one swift move, he had it shoved into the side of his attacker.

The Wolf let out a yelp, trying to move away from the object that'd hurt him. Kendall pulled the knife out, stabbing it in him once again, this time higher, feeling the silver scrape against ribs. This yelp was louder, the attacker falling to his knees, grip released on the blond.

Air rushed into Kendall's lungs, burning on the way down. He doubled over, nearly dropping his knife, panting as he tried to compensate for the moments he'd been without oxygen. But recovery didn't seem to be an option as he heard yet another yelp, this one worse than the others, and not just because of the volume.

It'd been James crying out in pain.

Kendall's head snapped to the left, spotting the brunet laying on the ground. A dark stain was on his shirt by his chest, getting bigger, the scent of blood hanging in the air. Another dark-haired male stood above James, evil grin on his distorted face. His hand had claws at the end of each finger, the digits curved upwards, crimson liquid dripping from them.

James' blood.

Kendall's vision went red, though he could still see perfectly, a slight haze around the edges. His entire body heated up, burning, worse than the night before when he'd been with the other male. It was if he was completely consumed by fire, his body made of it. And as he raised his hands, he noticed the flames that had appeared over them.

Letting out a war-cry, he charged the assailant, knife held high in his hand. The Wolf-Shifter spun around, deflecting the blond's attack, landing a punch on his jaw. Kendall barely felt it, adrenaline pumping through fiery veins, a growl he barely recognized as his own rumbling out his throat. He landed a few good punches of his own, the attacker's shirt catching on fire. A couple jabs to the head had him disoriented and when he was busy trying to right himself, Kendall stabbed his knife right into the Wolf-Shifter's chest, effectively killing him.

Dislodging his knife, he shoved the goon's body aside, vaguely aware of how it caught fire. He shook his hands in an attempt to out the flames, Lucy's voice in the back of his head talking about visualization and imagining them appearing. Had to work in reverse, right? Picturing the flames extinguishing worked, his eyes taking in normal, unharmed skin, spattered with the blood of the two males he'd killed.

A groan came from the ground, drawing Kendall's attention, realization a smack to the back of his head. James.

He quickly stepped over to the brunet, taking in the way he was curled in a ball on his side. His tee had four slashes over his left pectoral, blood staining the edges of each one. The darkness of the blotches were growing and causing Kendall to mutter out a swear. His heart was pounding outta control, panic flooding every inch of him. He was trembling, unable to think. All he could see was the hurt on the brunet's face, all he could hear was the pain in the yelp he'd cried out. His vision blurred and his eyes stung with still unshed tears, sniffing loudly as he refused to break down and cry. James needed his help and he'd be damned if he wouldn't give it to him.

“James?” he asked cautiously, desperation leaking into the name, a hope that he wasn't too badly injured. But the size of the dark spots on his shirt and the visible red through the slashes on the cotton weren't very promising. His hands fluttered about the larger male, trying to figure out where to put them, settling for a broad shoulder and large bicep. “We gotta get you to the hospital.”

A hand grabbed onto his flannel sleeve, his eyes snapping up to James'. The dark color was clear, grave, direct. “No. Hospitals.”

“James, you—”

“No!” he interrupted, voice as hard as the look in his eyes. “Please. Promise me. No. Hospital.” He was pleading, begging Kendall not to take him, leaving the blond with no choice but to nod and go along with it.

“All right,” he gave in. “All right. But we gotta get you outta here.” Moving onto his feet, he put his hands under the brunet's arms, helping him up and wincing at the pain-filled groan James let out. With careful steps, he got the larger male into the passenger seat of the car, reclining it. He practically tore off his flannel shirt, pressing it to the wound over his left pectoral, hoping to stem the bleeding and buy him some time to figure out what to do.

Slamming the door shut, he sped around the front of the Explorer, getting behind the wheel and silently thanking whatever deity was up in the sky that James hadn't had a chance to pull the keys out the ignition. Starting it up, he slammed his foot on the gas and reversed out the spot, driving away as fast as he could as his mind raced at an even greater speed. And all the while, he silently hoped and prayed and everything else that James would be okay.

Phoenix or not, he'd die if he lost him.


	4. Part Four.

Kendall drove another twenty minutes down the road, stopping at the first motel he came across. He knew staying at the same hotel where they'd been attacked would just be dumb, that they needed to get away from it and fast. Only he didn't wanna risk going too far. For starters, he wasn't sure how bad James' injuries were and didn't want to chance the elder male bleeding out. Secondly, he figured that Griffin's henchmen would assume the two of them would drive as far as possible before stopping again. They wouldn't even consider them being just down the road, meaning they were safe where they were.

Once he checked in, got a room, and parked by the door of it, he helped James out the Explorer and inside. The brunet let out minor noises of pain, barely audible grunts that escaped past clenched teeth and a tightened jaw. Kendall assisted him over to the bed, where James muttered that he had it, dismissing the blond.

Kendall grabbed their bags out the trunk and locked the car up, returning to the room. Door shut, he flipped the bar over and put the duffels on the floor in front of it in a lame attempt to barricade it. Figuring that was as good as it was gonna get, he turned and faced the other male, borrowed first aid kit in his hands.

James had taken his shirt off, the ruined fabric now crumpled in a ball on the floor. It was hard to tell the extent of the damage. Blood was smeared on the left side of his chest and down onto his abdomen, some of it dried to a reddish-brown. He moved stiffly as he lowered himself down onto the bed, laying on his back with his head on a pillow. There were no comments, no complaints about the fact that there was only one double-bed that they'd have to share, only a harsh exhale and an audible swallow when he closed his eyes.

Green eyes took in the other male's exposed torso, not seeing the muscles or the tan skin. Just the blood. His earlier worries came rushing back, the fear that he was gonna lose James, that something terrible had happened to him. Well, he'd been right about that last part. He'd obviously been sliced with something, but the lack of discoloration on his skin or pain-filled cries meant it hadn't been silver.

Thank god for small favors.

But still, it was terrifying not knowing what was wrong, what had happened, if James was gonna be all right. He'd spent the entire car ride twisting his head back and forth between the windshield and the other male, checking for any signs he was getting worse.

Clutching the first aid kit in shaky hands, he slowly approached the bed, sitting down on the edge with care. James' eyes popped open, the hurt he was feeling no longer evident in the currently black orbs. But his brow was furrowed in confusion, nostrils flaring as he inhaled Kendall's scent.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice rough.

“Gonna clean your wound,” Kendall explained, his own voice trembling slightly. He held up the first aid kit to allow the other male to view it, getting a snort in response.

“I don't need any bandages or any shit like that,” he stated with a hard edge. “I'll be fine in the morning.”

The blond shook his head, refusing to back down. “I agreed not to take you to the hospital, because I knew it wouldn't be safe for you, just in case the docs noticed something off about you,” he began, jaw tense as he spoke in annoyance. “But in return, you gotta let me clean your wound and see the extent of the damage so I know that you'll be all right.”

They locked eyes, neither male backing down, both too stubborn. Finally James let out a sigh, turning his gaze away as he breathed out a “fine”.

It was all the permission Kendall was gonna get, but all he needed. Setting the kit on his lap, he opened it up, finding wipes to clean the brunet up.

Blood wiped away, he was able to see the damage better. Four gashes ran diagonally on James' left pec, looking like he'd been slashed with claws to Kendall's amateur eyes. The bleeding had stopped, which made him feel a little better, but he was still worried the claws had nicked something important inside the brunet.

“I'm fine,” James reassured in an exacerbated tone. “No internal injuries. Just slap a band aid on me and call it a night.”

Kendall reminded himself that the other male was injured and it would be poor bedside manner to slap him—as tempting as it was—instead reaching back inside the kit and grabbing the antibacterial wipes to disinfect the wound.

He tried to remain calm, professional, to use that same detached manner that doctors had when treating a patient. Only he couldn't. For starters, he wasn't a doctor, had no training, barely knew what he was doing. Plus James wasn't just some random patient. This was the guy who'd saved Kendall countless times, the guy in charge of keeping him alive and in one piece. This was the guy whose touch caused a fire inside the younger male, who held him close at night and kept bad dreams away. This was the guy Kendall was realizing he was still in love with and had almost lost just as quickly as he'd found him again.

Tossing the used wipes to the side, he opened a pack of gauze and gently laid it over the wound before grabbing hold of the medical tape. He should've felt relieved that the injury wasn't any worse than it looked, that they were just flesh wounds. But all he could think was how close it was to his heart, how it would've been so easy for the attacker to just dig a little deeper and strike James down right then and there. Kendall would've lost the man he loved in between one heartbeat and the next, only this time, it would've been permanently.

His eyes filled with tears, sniffing loudly, hands trembling as they unrolled the tape. He couldn't make it without James, and not just because the brunet was his Guardian or because he knew where they were going and Kendall didn't. He needed the other male like he needed air to breathe. He needed to feel that muscular frame against his during the night, to hear that heartbeat pumping steadily in his ear, to inhale that mix of Cuda, pine, wolf, and James. He needed that burn on his finger mark, that fire that consumed him when they touched, that desire and lust and passion that was only brought out by James. But most of all, he needed to have those arms wrap around him and make him feel safe, feel at home, feel loved.

A hand laid over his, a gentle “Kendall” whispered out in concern. He didn't lift his head, couldn't look at the worry that he knew would be on James' face. He kept his focus on taping the gauze onto his chest, sniffing once more.

“I was so scared you died,” he admitted lowly, afraid of being laughed at, of being rejected, of being told that he shouldn't have because things weren't like that between them. But he needed the other male to know how he felt, what it'd been like, why he was so upset.

He felt a thumb being rubbed over his wrist bone in a reassuring way. “Now you know how I felt all those times you died.” A small laugh accompanied the phrase, the statement meant to be a joke, a playful way to lighten the mood. Only it seemed halfhearted, the humor not quite there the way it was meant to be.

“At least I come back,” the Phoenix retorted, hoping to make the Wolf-Shifter fully understand the gravity of the situation. He worked on taping the final edge down, sniffing again as a tear finally managed to spill over. “You won't.”

The hand moved from his, cupping his face and raising his head so he was forced to meet James' eyes. The now hazel-green orbs held a serious light in them, his face grave as he spoke solemnly. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“You can't guarantee that.”

“True. But I can guarantee it for the night.” The brunet wiped away a fallen tear with his thumb, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I promise that tonight, I'm not going anywhere. I'm gonna be right here by your side,” he vowed as they locked eyes, allowing the smaller male to note just how serious he was being.

It was exactly what Kendall needed to hear. In a rush of overwhelming emotions, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to James', the first aid kit falling off his lap and onto the floor unnoticed. James didn't hesitate to kiss back, their lips moving in an unspoken confession of love and relief; relief that the brunet was alive and okay and that for the moment, the two of them were together and safe.

Kendall moved to straddle the other male's hips, lips parting to allow James' tongue into his mouth. He met it with his own, the push-pull dance starting as they both began to breathe heavily.

James' hands slid under his tee, stroking his sides, petting his back, before they started rucking the white fabric up. They parted lips only long enough for Kendall to remove the offending clothing and toss it to the side, reconnecting in a more passionate way than before.

Hips started moving, beginning the same grinding rhythm they had the night before. The blond moaned into the brunet's mouth as he felt himself begin to harden inside his boxers, the friction causing a rush of arousal to flood every inch of his being. The mark on his finger was burning and he could feel the heat from James' left ring finger as his hands roamed his back.

The rutting became too much, Kendall pulling away from James' mouth to groan loudly, resting his forehead on the brunet's. But they continued moving together, the blond's hips rolling in an instinctual rhythm, pressing insistently against the hard bulge that had formed in the larger male's jeans. He felt hands move to his back to the front of his pants, working the button and zipper, undoing them. A hand slipped inside his pants, cupping his erection through his boxers and squeezing, causing his hand to shoot out and grab hold of the headboard with a gasp and a swear.

James moved his hand up and down Kendall's length, the teen breathing out harshly, his exhales more like pants. His lips pressed to the side of the Wolf's neck, kissing along the crescent moon mark located there, sucking hard in the middle of it. A growl rumbled up from the male below him, hips bucking up more, hand squeezing even harder.

Kendall nibbled his way along James' collarbone, pausing to suck at the inverted star at the hollow of his throat, before kissing his way down between flat pectorals. The hand slipped out his pants as he moved further down, nipping abdominals, licking the lines that separated the muscles. He bit at one hip bone, kissed the other, licked along the top of James' pants. He could feel the trembling of the larger male's torso beneath his lips, the shaking of his stomach as he inhaled raggedly.

His hands were slightly shaky as he undid the other male's pants, pulling them down his long legs. The denim got stuck on his boots, Kendall getting rid of those and the socks below before fully removing the jeans. He took the opportunity to remove his own Vans, before kissing his way up both of the elder male's legs, switching back and forth between the two muscular limbs.

James' bottom lip was between his teeth, his hips rolling in an attempt to get the younger male where he wanted him. He was breathing harsh through his nose, chest rising and falling harder than usual, small whimpers leaving him every now and then.

The blond wrapped his lips around the tip of the brunet's cock over his boxers, sucking it, grinning at the small moan it created. He placed open mouth kisses along the hard length, hand wrapping around it and stroking, using the cotton fabric to create more friction.

The elder male breathed out a swear, a pleading “Kendall, please” following soon after. The younger kept grinning, slowly pushing the boxers down, kissing each inch of skin he exposed. He pulled it over the head, seeing the bead of precome that had form at the tip. He lapped it up with a quick flick of the tongue, a rush of heat bursting out from his finger mark at the gasp James let out.

He continued his teasing, continued to move as though he had all the time in the world. He kept sliding the boxers down, kissing along the cock he was revealing. When he had it under the brunet's balls, he sucked on each one before fully removing the underwear in one long swoop.

Kendall settled between the larger male's thighs, slowly licking up the underside of his dick, paying special attention to the vein that traveled up the hard length and the sensitive spot under the head. He wrapped his lips around the tip, sucking hard. James groaned loud and long, fingers gripping the sheet below him, and the blond felt the mark on his back heat up.

Slowly lowering his head, he took more of the Wolf's cock in his mouth, sucking and licking the sensitive skin along the way. He didn't stop until he felt the tip hitting against the back of his throat, relaxing so it didn't trigger his gag reflex.

Lifting his eyes, he took in the sight of the other male. His stomach was trembling, muscles contracting and expanding shakily. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, tiny “ah” noises leaving on exhales. A thin layer of sweat covered his forehead, his lips parted, lids halfway down as he stared at the blond with glowing eyes.

The entire scene before Kendall was better than any aphrodisiac possible. His dick twitched in his boxers, an aching length that needed some attention. He felt his skin tingle, his back mark burn, and an overwhelming desire to be with the brunet in the most primitive way possible took over his every thought.

Focusing on trying to make James just as desperate as he was, he began bobbing his head up and down the brunet's length, flicking his tongue, sucking on the head, gently scraping his teeth. His hand pumped anything he couldn't fit in his mouth, an uneven rhythm that had the larger male's toes curling.

James dug a heel into the mattress, pumping his hips, wordlessly demanding more. His fingers tangled in the blond's hair, in a way to keep contact, still allowing the younger male to keep the pace he wanted. He tugged at the locks, groaning, head tilting back only to return to its previous position so he could watch Kendall. A steady rumble was coming from his chest, a low growl with a sexual edge to it that was turning the smaller male on even more.

“Kendall,” he groaned out, panting. “Stop. Need you.”

He pulled off the elder male's dick with a pop, tongue flicking out along the slit. “I'm right here,” he pointed out, voice rough from his previous actions and the arousal that had taken control of every inch of him. His hand continued to pump the other male, tongue swirling around the head and wrenching a moan from James.

“No,” he protested, shaking his head. “More. Need more of you.”

Kendall understood perfectly what he meant. Releasing his grip, he moved so he was straddling the other male's hips once more, reconnecting their lips in a sloppy kiss that was more need than technique. He felt his jeans and boxers being shoved down, a chill covering his ass as it was exposed. Hands gripped the cheeks, spreading them, a finger prodding experimentally at his hole and making him groan.

James ended the kiss, nose rubbing against the younger's, eyes glowing in the dark room. “Tell me you still have the stuff in your duffel.”

He nodded emphatically, quickly climbing off the bed and racing over to his duffel by the door. In a flurry of motions, he managed to locate the lube and condoms, carrying them back over. He reached the end of the bed before James commanded him to stop, Kendall freezing at the gruff tone of the word.

“Take your pants off,” the brunet ordered, licking his lips. His leg was cocked once more, hand lazily stroking himself, glowing eyes locked onto the smaller male's form.

Kendall swallowed hard, a sudden wave of self-consciousness washing over him. Where James was all broad build and defined muscles, he was lean limbed with a slightly pudgy belly. He didn't have the same hard lines, the same biceps or pectorals or abdominals. He was pretty much made of sticks.

But it was what James wanted, and whatever James wanted, Kendall wanted to give.

Tossing the condoms and lube onto the bed, he grabbed hold of his jeans and boxers, shucking them down in one swift move. He stepped out of them, leaving him naked and exposed in the motel room.

The glow in James' eyes flared more, the growl deepening, a groan rumbling out. His eyes moved up and down Kendall's body, teeth sinking into his bottom lip, hand squeezing around his dick harder. Despite all of the blond's worries and fears over being too skinny and not nearly able to measure up to the god-like Wolf who laid on the bed, it turned out they were all for naught. James appreciated him and his looks more than he thought he would.

The knowledge was a big boost to his confidence as he sauntered over, hoping he moved with the same grace James did. Straddling the larger male's hips like before, he kissed him deeply, slower, a sort of praise and reverence with his lips. He could never describe how the brunet affected him, put to words what the sight of him did to his body and his mind, but he could try to show it in the way he worship him with his mouth and hands.

His tongue slid inside James' mouth, mapping out the wet cavern, relearning all the places that made his breathing hitch and his hips buck. The two of them started rutting together once more, precome smearing along their lengths, making the glide between their cocks easier. Kendall wrapped a hand around both of them, thrusting his dick into his hold, rubbing it against the other male's and making him groan.

A pop sounded out, followed by a squirt, and soon he felt a cold, wet fingertip pressing at his hole. The lube was rubbed around it, making him moan at the teasing, before the finger slid inside him, not stopping until it was fully inserted.

He pulled away from James' lips, pressing his forehead to a broad shoulder. His hand and hips stilled, mind focused on the intrusion behind him, the mix of pain and pleasure that accompanied it. He felt the finger curve into a hook, pulling at his hole, stretching it. His breath left in shaky pants, body trembling, free hand gripping onto the larger male's shoulder.

An arm wrapped around him, holding him close and keeping him from falling apart. He felt lips pressed to his own shoulder as a second finger slid inside, making him stutter out a groan. They slid in and out in a smooth motion, scissoring him open even more. Kendall's hips began moving in rhythm with them, pressing back as they entered, away when they pulled out. They stroked his inner walls, brushing up against his prostate and making his hand shoot out the headboard once more.

“Fuck!” he cried out, a whine tinged laugh following.

The fingers still, Kendall whimpering, James' free hand stroking his back.

“Want me to stop?” the brunet asked, concern dripping off every word.

The blond lifted his head, green eyes meeting golden ones, his head shaking insistently. “Fuck no,” he breathed out harshly. “Keep going. More.”

The larger male nodded, moving his fingers once again, a third sliding in and making the smaller's head tilt back as he groaned. Kendall sat up, back arching, hips rising and falling as he fucked himself down on the fingers. He couldn't take any more, needed the other male inside him, needed more than just his fingers. Reaching over, he grabbed the box of condoms he'd tossed onto the bed and tore a packet free. He ripped it open with his teeth, removing the rubber contained within, before moving back an inch or two.

James' cock was an angry red length that bobbed on his lower abdomen. It glistened with precome, both his and Kendall's, and the saliva the younger male had coated it with. In a careful rush, the blond rolled the condom over it, coating it with lube and stroking it.

“Shit, Kendall,” James groaned out, lips parted as his jaw hung loose. He slid his fingers out, taking hold of the blond's hips and moving him over his dick. “Ride me.”

Kendall couldn't think to argue, didn't want to. He felt the brunet's hands move to his ass, spreading him open. Wrapping his own hand around the other male's cock, he lined it up with his hole and pushed it inside as he slowly sat down.

The mark on his finger glowed brighter than ever, the golden light in the brunet's eyes nearly blinding, and his back mark felt as though it was on fire. But none of it seemed to matter. As he fully seated himself on the other male, he felt as though he'd finally figured out who he was.

He was James'.

He exhaled slowly, trembling slightly above the larger male. Leaning forward, he set his hands on a ridged abdomen for leverage, allowing himself to get adjusted to the intrusion behind him. James' hands roamed up and down his thighs, soothing strokes that told the blond everything was okay. Kendall focused on keeping his breathing even and steady, knowing he needed to relax, wondering if it was possible to do so when he felt like his skin was made of fire and his blood replaced with lava. In the best way, of course.

A long moment later and he lifted up, feeling the other male slide out until the head was tugging at the tight ring of his hole. Lowering back down, he groaned, the sound echoed by the brunet as hands gripped his thighs.

He set a slow pace, working himself up and down the hard length. His mouth hung open, jaw slack, eyes half-lidded. A thin coat of sweat was covering his entire body, the air in the room stifling, and he struggled to get enough in his lungs. The whole thing felt like it was too much, yet not enough, his body craving more but unsure if it could handle it.

James' hips began moving with his, bucking up to meet each thrust down, the rhythm speeding up. Harsh pants filled the air, along with the occasional groan or swear. Kendall felt his name being muttered out as a praise, his green eyes locking onto glowing gold ones, his heart lurching at the sight.

The elder male's hands moved up his sides, around the front of his torso, one wrapping around the back of his neck. James pulled him down for a kiss, Kendall rolling his hips as their lips met in loud smacks. His cock was rubbed between rippled abs and a flat stomach, the friction making him moan out the brunet's name.

A rumbled sounded out from James' chest. “Say it again,” he growled against the teen's lips.

“James,” he breathed out, their eyes locked.

The snarl he let out was pure sex and lust, his hips bucking up at twice the speed, fucking up into the smaller male. An arm wrapped around him tightly, holding him in place, forcing him to endure it. Kendall grabbed onto one of James' shoulders, head tilting back as he whimpered and groaned at the assault. His right hand was grabbed hold of, fingers entwining with his, allowing him to feel the fire from the brunet's Mates' Mark. On a particularly hard thrust, he slammed the joined appendages onto the pillow by James' head, keeping them there as he gasped out, his eyes widening.

Lowering his head back down, Kendall caught sight of steam rising from his hand and forearm. Turning to inspect it further, he discovered flames on his shoulders, strangely not seeming concerned about it. He already felt like he was on fire in a metaphorical sense, the large male fucking him causing an intense heat to flood him every time they touched. It only seemed fitting that it coalesced into actual flames on his skin.

James didn't seem too worried about it either, face flushed red as he continued his ministrations. His muscles were tense, pants shallow and out of control, his rhythm becoming uneven. He was close, a thought that had Kendall's own orgasm speeding up.

Keeping their hands joined together, Kendall sat up, fucking himself down on the other male, being bucked back up by strong hips. He was vaguely aware of the scratching of claws on his side near his left hip, but didn't give it any further thought, mind gone into tunnel vision. Orange and red flickered around the edge of his vision, flames dancing behind his eyes, and he knew it was only the matter of moments before he'd be coming.

A hand wrapped around his cock, pumping him in sloppy motions. The dick driving into him was rubbing against all the right places, the head grazing against his prostate. And when his eyes locked with James', he felt his orgasm burst forth, the flames rising higher. Stars swam in his vision, his entire body tensing out as he practically screamed the other male's name, squeezing his fingers hard. A couple thrusts later, and he felt the pump of the brunet's orgasm filling the condom inside him.

They kept up their motions, drawing it out, prolonging the pleasure for each other, before Kendall finally collapsed on top of the larger male. His head landed on his right shoulder, his harsh pants gusted out against sweat soaked skin as he trembled. An arm wrapped around him, kisses being pressed onto his flesh, the fire having extinguished itself. The other male pulled out of him, but kept him close, both of them refusing to move for anything.

He clung to James, trying to get as close to him as possible, using him as some sorta life-preserver while he came back to earth. The sex had been intense, blowing his mind, and he felt disoriented, like he'd been pulled from his skin, tossed around, then shoved back in but in the wrong way. James calmed him, made him feel okay, like he was gonna be all right at the end of everything.

It wasn't long until they both fell asleep, holding each other as though they were afraid of being ripped apart.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Kendall had the same dream again. The same forest, the same sense of panic and determination to get where he needed to go, the same belief that he was further away than before. Only he didn't get anywhere close enough.

A huge jolting motion woke him up, following by a gruff order to “wake up!”

He bolted upright with a gasp, hands flying out to the side to steady himself. Slightly disoriented, he took in his surroundings, remembering that he was in a motel somewhere in Nevada, that he was traveling and extremely far from what he'd believed to be his home.

His eyes came across a grumpy looking James, who was dropping his foot from where he'd been kicking the mattress. He was already dressed, jeans covering his long legs, a black tee over his torso. He stared down at the blond with a blank face, eyes dark and hard, clearly not in the mood to fuck around.

“We need to leave,” he stated curtly, already in a pissy mood. “Get up.”

It took another long minute for Kendall to get back into his head, heels of his hands digging into his eyes as he struggled to wake up. Realization slowly crept in, the knowledge that he was naked under the sheet, that he was sticky with sweat and other bodily fluids, that there was a slight ache in his ass. Memories of the night before flashed in front of his eyes, he and James having sex, attending to the brunet's wounds, the fight outside the other hotel.

His eyes jerked back to the larger male, a slight panic in them, but not about Griffin's goons. All he could think about was the pain-filled yelp James had cried out, the blood soaking through his tee, the gashes on his pec. He hadn't given a single thought to the injury while they were fucking and he worried that maybe he'd harmed it in some way, that he'd irritated it, made it hurt more, did damage to the healing process.

Concern wrinkled his brow as he analyzed the other male's appearance, trying to find any sorta clue that he was hurting, not noticing anything different. “How're you feeling?”

James turned away, heading over to the bureau opposite the bed, grabbing his fingerless gloves. “Fine,” he answered tersely. “All healed up.”

Well okay then.

Kendall's eyebrows bobbed before he stretched, body aching in various places. Twisting his head, he noticed four new claw-marks near his hip, already healed over, a vague recollection of James having done them during the heat of passion.

His eyes moved to the brunet, noticing the tense lines of his back, imagining frost collecting on the cold shoulder he was giving.

Knowing he was setting himself up for emotional pain, Kendall went ahead and asked the question on his mind anyway. “Are we gonna talk about last night?”

“Nothing to talk about,” James replied flatly, focused more on the velcro strap on his glove and making sure it was tight enough. “We screwed up. Won't happen again.”

He let out a small laugh of disbelief, jaw jutting forward as he tore his gaze away from the other male. Tears pricked at the back of his eyes, but he stubbornly held them back. It was incredible really. Every time Kendall thought they were getting closer, that they'd taken a huge step forward in their relationship, James threw them back another three. It was amazing they'd gotten as far as they had the night before. Chances were it was just a rush of adrenaline, an act born outta relief over still being alive. It hadn't meant anything to James at all. And that was the biggest knife in the heart of them all.

Turning back to the larger male, he felt a sense of anger building up inside. The whole time James kept saying they couldn't be together, that they should keep their distance, yet he still had sex with him, still held him all through the night. Then in the morning, he was back to being cold, rude, emotionally unavailable. The whole thing was just a huge mindfuck, so many one-eighties that Kendall no longer had any idea which way was up—which considering he was a fucking Map with a compass on his arm was really saying something. But all of it was because of James, because of this bastard's inability to remain consistent with his behavior towards Kendall. It was starting to really piss the blond off.

“Are you bipolar or some shit?” He hadn't meant to actually say it out loud, but now that he had, he didn't regret it.

James turned around, eyebrow cocked. “Huh?”

Kendall held his right hand out, as if displaying something. “At night, you're loving, wanna be close, will fuck me and hold me and make me feel like you actually care. Then in the morning—” He held his left hand out in the same manner as his right. “—you're cold and distant and you push me away like I'm a leper and you don't want your pretty face to get ruined.”

The brunet rolled his eyes as he shook his head, spinning his entire body around to face the blond. Leaning back, he rested his butt on the edge of the bureau, arms folded over his chest, brow drawn in a serious expression. “That's because at night, my inner-Wolf is closer to the surface, especially when it gets closer to the full moon. And my inner-Wolf doesn't care about rules or any of that shit; it just wants to be with its Mate in the only way it knows how.”

“Sex,” Kendall assumed, voice flat.

“Right,” the muscular agreed with a single nod of his head. “But then in the morning, I'm more human, more connected to the logical side of myself that knows the rules and what can or can't be done. That's when I realize the mistakes I made the night before.” His tone was as harsh as his words and Kendall felt as though he'd just been metaphorically slapped.

The teen felt the hurt from before building back up, washing away the anger. His heart was aching, each word James had said another stab, another wound that he wasn't entirely sure could be healed. A lump in his throat, he barely managed to choke out the words he wanted to say.

“A mistake? We're a mistake?”

“What we _do_ is a mistake,” the larger male clarified, standing up and letting his arms drop to his sides, before he continued in a softer tone. “Kendall, you know we can't be together. It's against the rules.”

His green eyes focused on the sheet covering his lap, his vision wavering with unshed tears. He wanted to find whoever created the rules so he could beat them to a bloody pulp then let them heal up, only to beat them again, repeating the cycle over and over and over again, just so they could have a minor inkling of how that stupid fucking regulation made him feel.

His finger mark came into his line of sight, the _Mates'_ Mark he bore, because he and James had slept together before he was killed. Who knows how many times they'd had sex really. But he highly doubted the Wolf-Shifter had objected to it back then, which just made the entire thing all the more messed up. What made this time so different to where James was no longer acting the way he had before? Shouldn't he be more relieved and thankful Kendall had come back to him, that they'd found each other once more? Shouldn't that make him more desperate to show how he felt and make sure to always remind the blond of his true emotions?

His emotional see-saw switched back to anger. Shoving back the sheet he got outta bed, not caring that he was naked, no longer bashful or self-conscious. He was too pissed for any of that.

“I'm gonna take a shower,” he announced, not bothering to hide his irritation at the other male as he stomped his way to the bathroom. He was gonna make it a fast one, a quick rinse off of all the crap sticking to him that was a reminder of what had gone down the night before. He wasn't in the mood to delay, to mess about. No, now he wanted to reach their destination as soon as fucking possible. Because the quicker they arrived, the quicker he was free of James and all his bullshit.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The Palm Woods wasn't what Kendall expected it to be.

The name had sparked visions of beach-side resorts, day spas, peach colored walls with palm trees surrounding them. He thought of snotty rich women discussing their weekend retreats to the Palm Woods, gushing over the massages they received, the seaweed wrap that... did whatever it is that seaweed wraps do, the icky mud on the face treatment that was just so terrific. His imagination had him believing they'd pull through a wrought iron gate, up a terracotta driveway, to a building with Romanesque columns, where they'd be greeted by people dressed all in white with tranquil smiles and speaking in dulcet tones as they were welcomed to the Palm Woods.

He'd been right about a gate. The rest? Not so much.

The long gravel driveway led to an enormous dark brick multi-floor mansion, complete with turrets, sunrooms on the sides, a separate multi-car garage off in the distance. Statues of howling wolves were located at intermittent points around the roof, the overhang leading to the front door held up by black marble columns carved with swirling lines that resembled flames. The door itself was framed by dark wood with symbols and runes etched in them, the meanings of which escaped Kendall as he followed James inside, the SUV left parked out front.

The inside was just as grandiose and just as dark. Black marble covered the floors, save for the center of the circular foyer which featured a giant golden sunburst. A circular staircase framed the space, an open area under the landing it led to. Kendall peered through, able to see several French doors lining the far off back wall, an expanse of green visible through the glass, forest in the distance. The walls were painted black on the top, dark cherry wood paneling on the bottom, matching the railing on the stairs and the doorframes on either side of them. It was like a cliché spooky house out of every cheesy horror movie, as though supernatural creatures couldn't help but be drawn to dark colors and candelabras as light sources.

But as strange and slightly demented as the place was, Kendall felt an odd sense of coming home.

“James!”

Both of them turned their heads to the left, watching as a small Latino came running through, all flailing limbs and bright smile as he hurried over. He didn't stop until he slammed into James, wrapping his arms around the larger frame and embracing him tight.

The brunet let out an “ooff!” at the impact, before gently returning the hug, giving a few pats to the smaller male's back. “Hey, Carlos.”

Kendall raised an eyebrow at the scene before him, wondering what exactly was going on, who the newcomer was. The crescent moon mark on his neck meant he was a Wolf-Shifter like James, but other than that and his name, the Phoenix had no idea who he is or what kinda relationship he had with the brunet.

He felt the prickle of jealousy in the back of his mind, though he shoved it away, rubbing the back of his neck as he stood there feeling awkward and outta place. There was a slight tugging sensation on his side, the scratches James had left there reminding him of what had transpired the night before. And then that morning.

Dropping his hand, he shoved both in his pockets, unsure what to do next. He couldn't really go wandering off and leave the two others to their moment. Chances were he'd get lost in a place like that. Hell, he managed to do just that at his high school and it was half the size of the Palm Woods. He wasn't about to risk going exploring. Plus there was always the possibility that he'd get in trouble for leaving his Guardian's side. He wasn't entirely caught up on the rules, only really knowing two of them. Last thing he needed to do was get in trouble on his first day.

If it was even his first day to begin with.

James and Carlos parted, the smaller male still smiling brightly as he bounced up and down on his toes, hands gripping the other male's upper arms. The brunet was about a head taller than him, but the Latino was still wide, muscular, well-built biceps visible under his gray t-shirt. His black hair was cropped close to his head, dark eyes sparkling in delight, and Kendall wondered if he was the kinda guy that was happy at everything, a constant optimist in the face of doom. The blond sure as hell could use that kinda cheery outlook.

“Dude, I'm so glad you're okay!” Carlos commented in what wouldn't be considered an inside voice by anyone. “I thought the worst after I heard the news.”

James' lips parted in uncertainty, eyes darting to Kendall for a brief second to check if he was listening. That had the blond's confusion growing more, his curiosity piqued, wondering what news Carlos had heard exactly and why it would inspire bad thoughts.

“I'm fine, Litos,” the taller male muttered, voice taking on an authoritative tone. “I need to talk to Rocque. Know where he's at?”

Carlos dropped his arms, adjusting his t-shirt around the top of his cargo shorts. The bright smile disappeared, a sun hiding behind clouds, though he still held that sparkle in his eyes that said the light wasn't completely gone. “Yeah, he should be in his office.”

“Thanks, buddy.” James gave him a small grin, patting him on the shoulder before turning to Kendall. With a nod of his head, he signaled the blond to follow him up the staircase.

Their footsteps were muffled by the burgundy carpet that covered the cherry steps as they ascended, and again as they walked down the hall to the left. He kept pace with the larger male, despite his hurried steps, his curiosity getting the better of him once again.

“So Carlos is a Wolf-Shifter like you, right?” he questioned, peering at the male on his left.

“Yes and no,” James responded, see-sawing his head. “He's a Shifter, yeah, but he's not a Guardian; he's a Tracker. He has an incredible nose and can pretty much find anything or anyone anywhere in the world.”

“Maybe _he_ should find the Key, huh?” he joked with a smirk, getting the same unamused look he always received when trying to lighten the mood.

“He can only find things he's smelled before,” he responded flatly, turning to the right to head down another hall, Kendall following.

“Is he any good?”

“He found me,” he stated as though that was meant to be explanation enough, that that statement alone was plenty to answer any and all questions.

Only it wasn't. Kendall opened his mouth to ask where James had been, what had happened to the point where he needed to be found, only he never got the chance to speak. The sounds of muffled high heels reached his ears, his head turning to see a familiar face speeding towards them.

“Dr. Wainwright?!” He was in complete disbelief, eyebrows practically at his hairline as he gaped at her.

She looked exactly the same as always, calm and professional, today in a pair of black slacks and a sky blue halter, appearing like she'd just stepped outta her office. She didn't seem surprised to find Kendall there, wasn't shocked at being discovered there herself. But when he analyzed her closer, he could see the tired bags under her eyes, the worry in the dark orbs, the frazzled manner in which she moved.

“Good, you're here,” she greeted them, sounding a little outta breath, as well as relieved. “You guys need to hurry up. You're already late and you know how Rocque hates waiting.”

James muttered something under his breath in a language Kendall didn't recognize, Dr. Wainwright pointing a finger in warning at him.

“Quit with the lycanthropy speak,” she scolded, before ordering them to “move it!”, turning on a stiletto heel and marching off. With no other choice, the two men followed in silence.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Rocque's office was located around another corner and at the end of a hall. His double doors were open, revealing the space inside. His walls were a dark gray, furniture black and steel, shelves behind his desk featuring various statues of random shapes in black, white, and red. Kendall absently wished his therapist's office looked like this, more calmed by the dark color scheme than her all-white décor.

His eyes slid over to her as she rounded the desk, standing behind and to the left of the large male seated behind it. A black hoodie covered his round frame, eyes peering out through bright yellow sunglasses, large sideburns peeking out from under a black fitted cap. The outfit had Kendall thinking of Wayne-Wayne, only he didn't feel the same terror from the man before him. This guy created a different sort of panic inside, a worry that if he fucked up in any sorta way, he'd tear him a new one and enjoy every second of it.

That being said, Kendall wasn't entirely sure he could picture the grumpy looking male before him enjoying anything. Except maybe a cake.

Or three.

“Dog!” he bellowed, eyes trained on James as the tall male sank down onto a leather chair in front of the desk. Not knowing what else to do, Kendall seated himself in the matching one. While the brunet sprawled out with his legs spread-eagle and his arms hanging off the side, the blond sat ridged, eyes more open than usual while he watched everything with interest.

“You're late.”

The Wolf-Shifter rolled his eyes and head, snorting, before looking at the male Kendall was assuming was Rocque. “We're here, aren't we? No biggie.”

A hand slammed on the desk, the sound making Kendall jump and his heart miss a few beats. “It _is_ a big deal!” Rocque yelled in response, booming voice echoing off the walls, Dr. Wainwright wincing behind him. “It's a _huge_ deal! The more time we waste is more time Griffin is spending getting closer to that Key!”

A cocky smirk lazily spread across James' face. “Not without Kendall he's not.”

The sunglass covered gaze switched to the mentioned male, a pudgy finger pointed in his direction. “Map!” he called out, Kendall grimacing slightly and wondering if the guy was capable of speaking at a normal volume. Didn't all that yelling hurt his throat? “We need to find that Key and _now_!”

Well, duh.

He opened his mouth to speak, only to have James beat him to it.

“One problem,” he began, waiting until all heads were turned in his direction. “We don't know where to start.”

“Well, maybe you should get out of my office,” Rocque suggested calmly before returning to his usual shouting. “And get started finding that fuckin' key!”

Point taken, James and Kendall rose to their feet, ready to leave. Although the blond had no clue how exactly they were supposed to “get started” finding it. It wasn't as though he hadn't already been trying to do that very thing. The two of them—along with Lucy and Jo—had spent hours in her library combing through countless books and scrolls and manuscripts trying to find clues about where to begin, coming up empty. And with a Mage who knew everything helping, that was really saying something.

Dr. Wainwright rounded the desk, calling out Kendall's name as she approached him. “Mind if I have a word with you? Alone?” she requested, eyes sliding to James at the last word.

Kendall turned and looked at his Guardian, not sure if that was okay. The ten-foot high brick wall they'd past was probably safe, not to mention the place was most likely full of various Guardians, Protectors, Mages, and who knew what else, giving a relative amount of security. But he was still unsure of the protocol when it came to having a Guardian, what was allowed and what wasn't. Other than the whole falling in love and having sex part, of course.

James returned Kendall's stare, a small tug of the lips meant to be reassuring. “Sure,” he replied, eyes moving back to Dr. Wainwright. “I gotta go check-in with Dak anyway.” He returned his gaze to the Phoenix. “I'll catch up later.” With that, he was gone.

Kendall watched him leave before turning to his therapist, noting the comforting grin on her face.

“C'mon,” she began, bobbing her head towards the door James had just walked through. “Let's go to my office.” She led him through the portal and into the first room on the right, where Kendall saw the same interior design as Rocque's, the same dark color scheme, the same modern furniture.

She gestured for him to sit on a couch to the side, which he did, before walking to a table on the opposite end of the room. “So,” she began, grabbing a glass water jug and pouring some into a small tumbler. “I take it James told you what you are.”

His eyes narrowed in confusion for a brief moment, only for him to figure out the truth. Clearly she'd known all along that he was a Phoenix, that he wasn't gonna get his memory back, meaning he'd have to be told what he was. And since he'd arrived with James, chances were the brunet was the one who'd informed him about everything.

“Yeah,” he answered, clearing his throat. “He did.”

Dr. Wainwright stepped over to him, offering him the drink, which he took with a thanks. He had flashbacks to the last time he'd seen her only days before, when she'd done the very same thing, except he'd been a lot more panicked. This time, he was calm, not entirely relaxed, but more at ease. He was still unsure of what exactly was going on, where his therapist fit into all of this, why she was in California instead of Minnesota where he'd left her, but he assumed answers would be coming.

At least he _hoped_ they'd be coming.

She sat on the other end of the couch, ankles crossed beneath the furniture, hands clasped on her lap as she faced him. “I owe you an apology,” she stated, wincing slightly as though she genuinely felt bad about whatever it was she was about to apologize for. “I hid the truth from you for six months, the truth about what you are, about who I am. But you just weren't ready to hear it yet.”

Quenching his thirst, Kendall grasped the short glass in both hands, elbows on his knees as he studied the black shag rug beneath his feet. “Why the ruse? Why all the lies?” he questioned, turning to her with a hurt expression on his face.

A sigh left her, eyes turned down at the corners. “We couldn't risk any human getting any information about the map should you remember any of it,” she spoke softly. “Or worse, if Griffin's goons turned out to be your therapist. So I stepped in and helped you out. There are a lot of us around, helping protect those who need it. It might not be as obvious as a Guardian like James, but we're still there watching over you and others like you who may be lost or not know who they are. And with you being as important as you are and the map in your head leading to something incredibly powerful, we had to be extra careful with you and keep you safe, without overloading you with information your brain wasn't ready to process.”

He nodded as he took it all in, staring at the rug again. “I get it,” he spoke quietly, hand rubbing the back of his neck. He felt his earlier self-deprecating beliefs come back, the feeling that he was a useless damsel in distress who needed help and protection from everyone around as he contributed nothing. Dr. Wainwright and Camille had both told him he was important; he just didn't believe it.

“I just wish I could remember more,” he admitted lowly. “Like the starting point.”

A reassuring hand rubbed his shoulder, his head turning to take in her small smile. “It'll come to you,” she encouraged, her soft tone making him actually buy into what she was saying. “Just try not to worry so much.”

A tiny smile of his own tugged at the corner of his lips. “Thanks,” he replied, not telling her how much it meant to have someone have faith in him, especially when he didn't have faith in himself.

But judging by the smile she gave him, he had a feeling she knew anyway.

~*~*~*~*~*~

James wasn't at dinner.

In fact, Kendall hadn't seen him all afternoon, not since they'd parted ways in Rocque's office.

Carlos told him it was normal, no biggie, that James would get moody and just disappear, be anti-social only to show up randomly one day and act like nothing was wrong. The words did little to reassure Kendall however, a small worry still nagging at the back of his head. His concern for the other male was outweighing everything else, overriding his belief that he was useless and his worry over not being able to find the starting point to look for the Key. All he could think about was James somewhere in the mansion, upset over who knew what, battling his own inner-turmoil and relentless thoughts over whatever was plaguing him at the time.

Using directions Carlos gave him, Kendall headed to the west wing of the third floor, easily finding James' room. Knocking on the door, he invited himself in, finding the brunet sitting on the edge of his bed, shirtless. His fingers had a white-knuckle grip on the edge of his mattress, sweat creating a slight shine over his skin, head hanging heavily off tired shoulders. Kendall assumed he'd just been to a training center, had sparred with someone to get rid of some tension, although it looked as though he still held a lot of it.

Shutting the door behind himself, he cautiously approached the other male, bare feet padding softly on the wood floor. “You weren't at dinner,” he pointed out unnecessarily before holding out a couple protein bars and a Gatorade he'd swiped from the kitchen. “You need your protein so I got you this.”

James lifted his head, small smile on his face as he took the proffered food. “Thanks,” he breathed out, putting the drink and one of the bars on the nightstand beside him before opening the other one and tearing off a bite with his teeth.

Kendall stepped back, leaning against the door, not wanting to leave but also giving his Guardian some distance. The first bar was eaten fairly quickly, the second one opened immediately after, making the blond wonder how he could eat that. One was more than enough to fill him up.

Then again he wasn't a magical shape shifter who burned energy and carbs changing into an animal.

He used the silent moments to his advantage, taking in his surroundings. The walls were a flat white, the furniture the same dark wood that seemed to be the norm. Opposite the double-bed James was seated on was a desk that had seen better days judging from the scuffs and scratches in the finish, a mirror above it and rickety looking chair seated to the side. A door was on either side of the desk, presumably leading to a bathroom and a closet. Nightstands with a plain black lamp were on either side of the bed, both sporting the same wear and tear as the desk and bed. On the wall opposite Kendall were windows, no curtains, the blinds open to show the darkness outside.

His head tilted down, noticing he was rubbing his Mate's Mark, with the fingers on his right hand. He frowned, concern still heavy in his head, questions from earlier still on his mind. Having no clue how else to bring it up, he decided to just go ahead and ask, figuring the worst thing that could happen would be James telling him he didn't wanna talk about it.

“Earlier this afternoon,” Kendall began, pausing to swallow the lump of worry that had formed in his throat, clearing it. “You said Carlos found you.” He raised his eyes, training them on the still seated male. “Why'd you need to be found?”

James chewed slowly, not meeting the younger male's gaze, now black orbs focused where the wall met floor. He swallowed audibly, pausing for a long moment before he finally spoke in a quiet voice. “After you. Died,” he choked on the word, just like he had before. “Jett managed to subdue me, knock me out.” He let out a humorless laugh. “Cheap shot really. Can't expect a guy to fight back when he just saw the—” He cut himself off, eyes darting to Kendall for a quick second. “Anyway, he took me back to Griffin. They held me captive for five months as they tortured me for info about you.”

Kendall's eyes went wide in shock, not having expected that as an answer. His heart plummeted to the ground at the thought of James being tied up, caged, hurt, burned, mangled, all because of him. He felt a huge wave of guilt wash over him and wanted nothing more than to rush over to James, hold him tight, and apologize over and over for what happened to him. It might not have been entirely his fault, but he couldn't help feeling that way. James might've been Kendall's Guardian, but the blond felt the hugest urge to tuck the Wolf away and protect him from all the bad in the world and make sure he was never hurt again.

He smeared a hand over his face, muffling the swear he breathed out, feeling nauseous. He wanted to personally track down Griffin, Jett, and everyone else in the Legion and make them pay for what happened to James, even if they weren't directly involved. He wanted to destroy their group by his own hands, wanted to wreck them as badly as they'd wrecked the man in the room with him. He wanted to spill blood.

Shoving homicidal thoughts to the back of his mind, he folded his arms over his chest, holding himself in place. “I can't believe you didn't tell them anything,” he commented, knowing without having to be told that James never uttered a word to them.

Second protein bar finished, James rose to his feet, trash in hand, rounding the end of the bed. “I wanna say it was because I had no idea where you were and had no info to give,” he explained, tossing his trash into a can under the desk before turning to face Kendall, arms crossed. “But honestly? Even if I _did_ know, I still wouldn't say shit.” He had trouble meeting the blond's eyes, his own becoming shinier, wetter. His jaw tensed, teeth grinding, dark orbs unable to focus on anything as they darted around the room before finally settling on his own feet. “I can't stand to see you hurt. It kills me.”

It was as close to a confession of love that Kendall was gonna get and he knew it. Crossing the room in long strides, he grabbed hold of the larger male's face, smashing their lips together in a heated kiss. James gasped out in shock, hands moving to the smaller male's upper arms before he pulled his head away.

“We can't,” he whispered harshly. “Not here.”

The blond grabbed hold of the larger guy's jeans, hooking his fingers in a belt loop, before stepping backwards and dragging the other male with him. Reaching behind himself, he locked the door, pulling James against him and rubbing his hips against the other male's.

“Give in to your inner-animal,” he suggested, breathing the words against James' lips. A low growl rumbled up from the Wolf's chest before the blond kissed him once again, this time feeling it being returned.

Harsh breaths were expelled from their noses, blasting against one another's skin, as their lips moved together. Kendall's hands shoved themselves into James' hair as he felt his hips being gripped tight, possessively. The brunet's tongue slid into his mouth, ravaging, claiming, hips rocking together down below.

They parted when the need for air was burning their lungs, Kendall panting through parted lips, discovering the golden glow back in James' eyes. The larger male ripped off the smaller's flannel shirt, buttons scattering to parts unknown, leaving his torso bare. He wrapped an arm around a slim waist, the other holding the back of his neck as he attached his lips to the column of Kendall's throat, licking and biting the sensitive flesh. The blond's head fell back, hitting the door behind him in an unnoticed thud, small moans leaving him. The fire was starting back up inside of him, Mate's Mark burning, back simmering. Arousal was flooding every inch of him, getting hotter with each passing second, with each grind of a hardening bulge against his own.

James pulled away, easily lifting Kendall up, the blond wrapping his legs around his waist. Their lips reconnected in a frenzied kiss as the larger male stumbled back towards the bed, sitting when he felt the back of his knees hit against it. Their pelvises moved together in perfect rhythm, just like always, moans joining in the symphony of a creaking mattress and rubbing denim.

Kendall hands slid on the larger male's back, struggling to find a grip on the damp skin, as he circled his hips, groaning loudly. His blood was roaring in his ears, his skin tingling all over, body heating up. His dick was fully erect beneath his boxers, hole twitching in the back, hoping to be filled once again.

He felt himself being moved, lips pulled from his as James stood then laid him down on his back, covering the small frame with his large one. Their hips picked up right where they left off, the brunet's growls rumbling against Kendall's bare chest, echoing inside his heart. He lifted his head from the pillow to kiss him, only to have James avoid it, moving his head down to suck at the hollow of his throat.

Lips moved downward, pausing to suck at one nipple, then the other, Kendall biting down on his lower lip. His stomach contracted with a gasp as he felt a tongue bisecting it, swirling around his belly button in a move that both tickled and aroused. His torso rolled, back arching, hoping to get more contact while open mouth kisses were placed along the line of his low slung jeans. A mark was sucked near his right hipbone, tongue tracing the clawmarks above his left.

The teen whimpered, green eyes focused on the brunet head down below. He was trembling with anticipation, fingers threading through soft hair, tugging gently at the spiked locks. James nuzzled the obvious bulge in his crotch, inhaling deeply before letting out a satisfied growl. The sound had Kendall groaning, hips rolling on their own as his head tilted back. It was as good as contact on his actual dick, the noise causing his hard length to twitch inside his boxers, throbbing wildly.

“Fuck, please,” he whispered, peering down at the other male once more.

His jeans were unzipped and unbuttoned, pulled down with his boxers and thrown to the side. James kissed around his pelvic region, avoiding the one area where he was most wanted, making Kendall cry out in desperation. Finally, the brunet slowly trailed his tongue up the hard length, swirling it around the head to lick up the bead of precome that was there. He let out a deep groan, the growl intensifying, eyes peering up at the flustered male before him.

“Fuck, you taste amazing,” he snarled out in a satisfied, sexual way, before wrapping his lips around the head of Kendall's cock and sucking hard.

Kendall moaned loudly, hips bucking up, hand slamming onto the mattress. He felt fingers thread with his and he squeezed them, stuttering out a groan as he felt more of his dick being engulfed by wet heat. His jaw hung slack, lips parted, and he gave up the struggle to keep his eyes open, allowing himself to be taken over by sensations.

James deep-throated him, the tip of his cock tapping the back of his mouth, making his entire body jackknife off the bed as he gasped then groaned. His heart was pounding, breathing ragged and outta control. He gripped onto the sheets like a tether that still held him to the earth, the pleasure of feeling James going down on him threatening to send him to outer space.

He breathed out a swear and the other male's name as James began bobbing his head up and down, tongue swirling around the sensitive bundle of nerves under the head, lips sucking hard. The brunet managed to hit every weak spot, managed to keep the perfect rhythm, evidence that they'd done this more times that Kendall could imagine.

With a pop, James pulled off his dick, growling. “Need to taste you,” he grumbled, the words more animalistic than human.

Kendall tilted his head down, confusion furrowing his brow, lips parting to question what he meant. Wasn't he already doing that, tasting him? But he never got a chance to voice the inquiry. He was flipped onto his stomach, cheeks spread, tongue licking the line that bisected them.

A groan worked its way out of him, hips rising off the bed, hands gripping the pillow below his head. James licked around his hole, teasing the puckered ring, flicking back and forth over it rapidly. Kendall panted shallowly, eyes shut tight, head turned to the side. Sweat had formed over his skin, trickling down his hair line onto his neck, but he barely noticed it. All he could feel was the tongue lapping at his hole.

James spread him open more, sliding his tongue inside and making him groan loudly. The wolf let out a satisfied noise that rumbled throughout the blond's body, the wet muscle moving around in circles inside him. He slid it out before beginning to practically tongue-fuck him, causing Kendall to let out small “ah ah” noises as his right hand shot out to the side.

A finger slid inside, stretching his hole, rubbing his prostate, the smaller male's back arching as he cried out in pleasure. His hips started bucking, moving against air, wishing there was something to press against in order to relieve the pressure building up inside of him. The fire James had started within him had fanned out all over, visible steam rising from his skin once more as flames licked every inch of his insides. He needed something, _anything_ to put it out, but knew only one thing would do it.

“James,” he whimpered, fingers gripping hard onto pillowcase and sheet. “Please. Fuck me.”

The growl that came from behind him was all animal, reverberating in Kendall's very soul. James moved so he was kneeling, pressing against the blond. Green eyes opened to witness a mark-covered forearm enter his line of sight, reaching into a drawer on the nightstand and pulling out a small cylinder of lube and a condom. The arm disappeared, the leaner male closing his eyes once more, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. Anticipation had him shaking again, his hole twitching open and closed as it awaited the brunet's next move.

Cold liquid hit the puckered skin, making it shrink shut, before a fingertip rubbed it. Lips pressed to the back of Kendall's neck, kissing and sucking, soothing, the finger sliding inside him. His body relaxed, accepting the invasion, and soon he was stretched and open, ready for the real thing.

“Roll over.” James' voice was rough, as though he'd gargled gravel, the sounds of a zipper joining in.

Kendall twisted his head and looked at him, eyebrow cocked. “Thought this was what the Wolf wanted,” he commented, not entirely sure how he knew it, ass wiggling in a teasing manner.

A growl was the response, James' eyes drifting closed as his hands paused pulling down his jeans. He slowly reopened them, hitting the blond with the full force of the glowing orbs, teeth more pointed than they had been before. “The human wants to see your face when I fuck you,” he rumbled, making Kendall groan and his hips flex.

He followed the previous command, rolling onto his back, legs spread. His eyes were completely focused on the Wolf-god kneeling before him, watching in complete rapture as his jeans and boxers were discarded, the condom rolled on, and lube covered his cock. He gave himself a couple strokes before leaning over the smaller male, lifting one of his legs up and positioning himself. He opened his mouth as if to say something, only to shake his head, changing his mind. With one hard thrust of his hips, he entered Kendall, pushing all the way until he was fully sheathed.

The blond groaned, head tilting back, fingers gripping the sheet below him. He wrapped his legs around the other male's waist, arms around his back as forearms bracketed either side of his head. There was no pausing, no getting adjusted. James immediately pulled back his hips and slammed inside once more, tearing more groans from both their mouths.

The pace was unrelenting, hard, steady deep thrusts that had Kendall crying out with each slide in. James was pounding into him, no mercy, full animal mode. Growls joined his moans, harsh pants in his ear, words distorted as they rumbled past fangs.

A slight shift of their hips had James rubbing against Kendall's prostate with each thrust, making the smaller male yell louder in pleasure. His vision had gone red once more, orange flames licking around the edges of it. Fire was dancing on his skin and he had a momentary panic over whether he was burning the other male. But fangs sinking into his shoulder had him screaming out James' name, cock jerking between their bodies as his orgasm rushed even closer.

He tried to meet the larger male thrust for thrust, unable to keep up with the fast pounding, soon giving up. All he could do was take it, was cling onto the man above him as he was owned, the act a territorial fucking, a marking of property. And he was enjoying every second.

The flames grew, the glow in James' eyes brightening. His forearm shot forward, claws digging into the ancient headboard and scratching down, deep ridges that caused flakes of old paint and chips of wood to fall down onto the pillow next to them. Neither of them noticed, too wrapped up in each other to even remember that anyone else existed. The entire world could be ending all around them and they wouldn't have known.

James lifted his head, small bead of blood on his bottom lip. Kendall raised up, lapping it away, biting down on his lip and making him growl. He felt a stinging sensation on his back, vaguely aware one of the brunet's hands were behind him, but not seeming to be able to care. He was close, his orgasm lurking just within reach, and there wasn't anything he could do but allow it to take over.

But not without making the other male come, too.

He tightened his hole, clenching around the brunet with each stroke in, making those golden eyes go wide. He felt James' muscles tense beneath his fingers, saw the red tint to his skin, the veins popping out on his neck and every part of him tightened up. He grit his teeth, harshly puffing out air through his nose, before finally letting go. His orgasm pulsed inside of Kendall as he howled out the blond's name, head tilted back and hand gripping onto the top of the headboard, the wood cracking with his action.

Feeling James come set off Kendall's own orgasm, his entire body tensing up in pleasure as a simultaneous release rushed all around him. His back arched, toes curled, fingers dug into flesh as his come pulsed out, hitting both of their torsos. Flames blazed up around them, vision reddening more, James' name tearing from his throat and leaving him feeling raw.

The brunet pulled out of him and collapsed beside him, panting wildly, Kendall doing the same. Neither moved beyond that, both staring at the ceiling as they struggled to come back down. It'd been more intense than the first time, the blond feeling completely destroyed in the best possible way. Clearly being dominated was a kink, and luckily he'd just happened to fall for a guy whose inner-animal demanded to be in charge.

He felt his Mate's Mark throb, as if it were reminding him of its existence, and he realized it made sense. The two of them were fated for each other, so of course they'd be sexually compatible. It would be pretty dumb of the universe to have them be perfect together, but shit in bed.

Several long moments later, when they were both breathing normally, James rose up and off the bed, shuffling across the room to the desk. Kendall sat up, noticing his disheveled appearance in the mirror. His hair was sticking in literally every direction, lips red and kiss swollen, bruises and hickeys on his neck, bloodied bite mark on his shoulder. He appeared as ravaged as he felt and he wondered how exactly he was supposed to get to his room in the next hall without anyone figuring out what he'd obviously been up to.

James' back was to him, allowing him to see the scratch marks he'd make amongst the markings of his shield, although they were nothing compared to the clawmarks he could feel behind himself. But the sting had been worth it, knowing he'd been with the male he was in love with in the way he wanted to be.

Which meant that soon, James was gonna turn back from Dr. Loving to Mr. Wolf-Hyde, was gonna act cold and distant. Kendall was gonna be rejected once again, another rip to his soul, another shattering of his heart as he was pushed away from his Mate and told that what they did was a mistake.

Well, there was one way to prevent that from happening.

With an achy body, he stiffly got up, padding over to where his jeans and boxers lay in a heap on the floor. James heard the action, head snapping to him, now hazel-green eyes widening in realization.

“You're leaving?” he cried out, a slight panic in his voice that had the blond freezing in surprise.

“Uh, yeah,” Kendall replied, puzzled. He straightened up, clothing in hand, unable to look at the other male as he explained. “Figured I should go to my own room.” He didn't add that he wanted to hide in case James wanted to break his heart again, thinking there was no need to admit it ever happened, much less that he was terrified of it happening again.

“Stay.”

The gentle tone of the brunet's voice had his eyes rising to him. Hope was fluttering in his chest, but he refused to let it grow any more, afraid of it being extinguished and shattered more than before. “Why?So you can make sure I don't sleepwalk?” he mocked in a cracked voice, holding back any wishful thinking that it was more than that, that James would tell the truth this time and not use some lame bullshit they could both see through.

Eyes were rolled as the Wolf-Shifter scoffed out a sarcastic “please”. “You and I both know I was lying about the sleepwalking. Only time you've ever done that was at the SafeHouse a few nights ago.” Slowly and cautiously, he sauntered over to Kendall, speaking softly, his own hope flooding his words. “I want you to stay because—” He paused, shaking his head, unable to figure out how to word it. Head tilted down, he watched as he entwined the fingers of his left hand with those of Kendall's right, holding the joined appendages up, allowing the blond to see how his Mate's Mark was glowing red.

“I want you to stay because I want you to stay,” he finally finished, raising his eyes to the younger male's, allowing him to see the countless emotions swirling in them: hope, sincerity, need, desire, but most of all, love.

Kendall swallowed hard, emotion choking him, overwhelming him. He couldn't quite grasp what he was feeling, his heart so full he felt as though it would burst. But through all of that, one word rose above all the rest, bubbling past the lump in his throat and out past his lips.

“Okay.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

_He was in the same forest, feeling the same belief that he was way too far away from his destination._

_Kendall scratched his head as he did a three-sixty, taking in his surroundings, trying to figure out where he was, which way to go. Only he couldn't think. He kept hearing voices echoing all around him._

_All right, in all technicality, they were in his head, especially when he realized he was dreaming again, that this wasn't real. But it felt like they were all around him, that they were being spoken at a distance by people he couldn't see. Though he knew exactly who they were._

_He could hear Camille far off to his left, telling him he was wrong about not knowing where the starting point was._

_In the distance to his right was Dr. Wainwright, her soothing words reassuring him that the starting point would come to him and to not worry._

_He spun around and around, the words and voices swirling every which way until he felt dizzy. Suddenly stopping, he put his hands over his ears, eyes shut tight, hoping to make it all go away and for his body to not feel so disoriented._

_“Kendall?”_

_The soft sound of his name being spoken by a familiar male voice had his eyes opening. Appearing before him was James, dressed in the same dark jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket, and aviators that he'd been wearing the first time Kendall remembered seeing him. He stood a few feet away, thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans, looking every inch the stereotypical badass bodyguard._

_He felt his body calming down, the dizziness gone. He was grounded, oriented, stable. And all because of James._

_The intensity of those dark eyes was visible even through the sunglasses as the brunet stared at him, lips flattened into a line, tone grave as he spoke. “The only time you've ever done that was at the SafeHouse a few nights ago.”_

_Kendall's brow furrowed, lips pursed as he muttered out a “wha—?” He recognized the words from earlier, the exact phrase James had used when discussing his lie over the blond's sleepwalking. He just had no clue why they were being said at that moment, what it all meant._

_The Wolf-Shifter didn't say anything else, just sauntered over to him, boots crunching on leaves and sticks below him. Stopping before the smaller male, he leaned forward, pressing his lips in a kiss to Kendall's forehead. The blond's eyes drifted closed, feeling the pressure of the kiss before it disappeared..._

Kendall sat bolt upright in bed, panting heavily, head jerking around as he took in his surroundings. Not the forest, not the SafeHouse. James' room at the Palm Woods.

The action woke his Guardian up, the brunet jumping outta bed in a flash, clawed hands held out to his sides as he stood in a defensive position, growls leaving his throat. It took him a moment to realize there was no danger, claws retracting as he turned and looked at the male still on the bed.

“You okay?” he asked, voice a mix of confusion and concern.

Kendall nodded tersely, hand shoved through his hair as the remnants of his dream swirled around his head. The forest, the voices, James being there with him...

The Wolf knelt on the bed, leaning toward the blond. His body was still tense, muscles ready to spring into action, remaining on full-alert. “What's going on?”

He turned, green eyes leveling on the larger male, orbs wide in realization. “I know where the starting point is.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Kendall quickly washed himself off in the bathroom sink, solely so he'd feel less sticky, before throwing his clothes back on. James performed the same speedy rinse and dress routine, leading the smaller male to Rocque's room on the fourth floor.

The Phoenix pounded on the door incessantly, not stopping until it was flung open, revealing an enraged Rocque clad in zebra print pajamas, sunglass free eyes glaring at the ones who'd disturbed him.

“Whaddya want?” he bellowed, narrowed eyes wavering back and forth between the two males before him. “And why do you smell like sex and confusion?”

Green eyes widened, Kendall's lips parting to speak, only no words came out. He turned to the large male on his right, noticing the total poker face that was on his mug. Obviously he wasn't gonna be much help.

Refocusing on Rocque, the smaller male decided to completely avoid the question and the inference that came with it, changing the subject. “I remembered the starting point,” he announced proudly, smiling.

The rotund leader's eyebrows shot up, head rapidly shaking in surprise. His arms flew out to the side as he yelled, not caring if anyone in any of the nearby rooms was still sleeping. “Well, it's about fucking time! Get in here and we can come up with a plan.” Turning on a fuzzy slipper, he headed back inside the room with the expectation that the other two males would join him.

Kendall stepped into the bedroom, glancing behind him at James. The larger male was following him with robotic movements, face still as flat as before, stoic in every possible way.

A cold unease washed over him, a chill spreading from his chest on out. Seemed like James' human side was taking over and causing him to act distant and uncaring sooner than it had in the past. And as selfish as it made him feel, the realization of that held more weight in his mind than finding the Key and saving the future of the Ministry—and possibly the world as a whole.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Rocque had decided that Kendall and James should fly back to Minnesota immediately, partially because it was faster and time was clearly of the essence in this delicate situation, but also to avoid the risk of running into any more of Griffin's henchmen and something happening to Kendall that would put the map in the evildoer's hands. James only nodded mechanically before leaving to pack his bag. Kendall didn't object either, wanting the whole thing over with and to finally be able to get some distance between the two of them. Although what exactly he was supposed to do after they had the Key, he wasn't entirely sure, but he figured he'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

They just barely made their flight, despite Carlos' reckless driving and blatant disregard for speed limits—a characteristic Kendall was beginning to associate with all Wolf-Shifters—seating themselves moments before the plane left the ground. Given the early hour, it wasn't long before pretty much all the passengers were asleep.

All but two.

Kendall's leg bounced as he chewed his thumbnail, mind racing. Despite knowing where the starting point was and having a loose plan of what to do, he still had no clue what to expect. The fact that his only ally in the whole thing was silent and non-responsive wasn't helping to ease his worries either.

He peeked at James out the corner of his eye, seeing the larger male seated to his right, still as a statue as he stared straight ahead with flat features. Only a few inches and an armrest separated them, not nearly enough space for his mark not to warm and tingle. But with the silent treatment he was receiving, the way James was ignoring him, it felt like they were on entirely different flights on entirely different continents.

The little voice inside his head returned after several days of absence, reminding Kendall of how it was against the rules for him to be with the other male. It was soon joined by a second voice, one that was more emotional than instinctual, one that was arguing how the heart wants what the heart wants and that it doesn't give a shit about what was allowed and what wasn't. And it was true. It wasn't like Kendall _chose_ to fall in love with James; it just happened that way. After all, who would choose to gain feelings for a male who kept you at arm's length and only showed affection when being intimate—which, if he had it his way, would pretty much never happen—or when you were harmed? Unrequited love didn't look all that great in the movies and he wasn't about to sign up for it in real life.

Still, it was given to him anyway, regardless of whether it was wanted.

All right, maybe it wasn't _entirely_ unrequited. It did appear like James returned Kendall's feelings, only he was refusing to show them. And when they slipped, he made sure to backtrack and cover it up with lies or excuses. While Kendall understood the need to remain distant and not express any romantic thoughts, he still couldn't help but remember Lucy and Jo, their relationship, how the female Phoenix had told the male one that there were always ways around rules like that if one actually bothered to find them. It seemed like James had done just that in the past, but for whatever reason, wasn't doing it now, the belief of which made being rejected hurt all the worse.

He turned his full gaze to the other male, analyzing him. His muscles were tensed up, his usual state of being, and Kendall wondered if it was even possible for them to be relaxed and at ease. His brow was drawn into a hard line above narrowed now-black eyes, fingerless glove covered hands gripping the armrests, and to anyone else, it'd appear like he was afraid of flying, that being on a plane made him nervous. Only Kendall knew better. He knew James was like that because he was next to the younger male, because he was holding himself back for whatever reason, because he was constantly on the edge just in case of a sudden attack outta nowhere. He'd made Kendall take the window seat, a move he figured was more out of a need for protection than personal preference of where to sit. It seemed that even on a plane full of witnesses, James still believed they were at risk of attack. Kendall wondered if he'd ever be able to be anywhere other than the Palm Woods or Lucy's home and feel safe.

He shoved the thought aside, deciding he wouldn't really like the answer.

Focusing on the here and now, he gave James another elevator glance before speaking. “This the part where you tell me last night was a mistake?”

The Wolf's eyes drifted closed, sighing out a tired sounding “Kendall” while he rubbed his forehead.

“No,” the smaller male cut him off, turning to fully face him. He pointed a finger in warning as he spoke in a hushed tone through gritted teeth. “You don't get to do this shit, not again. You love me. Those photos at the SafeHouse proves it, as much as you claim it was a ruse, but we both know better.” Dropping his finger, he held up his left hand, displaying the dim glow of the mark on his ring finger. “This proves it, too.”

James' head lolled to the side, hard eyes leveled at him. “Mates doesn't equal love,” he stated plainly, voice brokering no argument. “Sex doesn't equal love either, before you bring that up.”

Kendall snorted, hating the larger male for going there, hating himself for not seeing that coming. “What?” he questioned in a snippy tone. “Like your parents?”

Obsidian eyes narrowed at him, a low rumble of an angry growl joining it. “You don't know shit about my parents.”

He didn't back down, refused to be intimidated, glaring right back. “Neither do you.”

He clearly struck a nerve, judging by James' response. The Wolf turned away, glancing around the plane as he smeared a hand roughly over his face. When he returned his gaze to him, his features were hard, jaw tense. But his eyes held something more, something deeper, a resolution of sorts that said he wasn't happy with the way things were, but went along with it anyway because he had no choice.

“Look,” he began, his tone revealing that he was trying to remain calm in order for Kendall to understand, but with an underlying aggravation that he was sick of having this same damn conversation. “It doesn't matter how we feel because we can't be together. Let it go.”

Something struck inside his chest, a thump in his heart that wasn't a result of its usual beating. James hadn't denied being in love with Kendall, hadn't tried to argue that he was imagining all of it or clutching at straws in the hope that any unrequited feelings were returned.

But the realization of that was little comfort, an odd sense of deja vu washing over him, the belief that he'd heard something like that before yet couldn't remember where or when.

No surprise really, given the total memory loss he'd suffered after his last death.

“Is that what you said that night at White Castle?” he sputtered out before his mind had even formed the thought.

Another nerve hit, James swallowing audibly before turning away in a wordless signal that the discussion was over.

Kendall let out a sigh, following the other male's lead and looking elsewhere, gaze focused out the window at the cloudy night sky. It seemed like every time he tried to make the other male realize that they were in love and perfect together, he was shot down. His efforts were clearly futile, yet he kept fighting anyway in an unexplainable desire to have James remember how they felt about one another, despite the fact that he wasn't the one who'd lost his memories. And as much as he wanted to tell himself to go along with James' advice and let it go, he knew he wouldn't, not without a major reason to.

Leaning back in his seat, he closed his eyes, deciding he'd deal with all that some other time. At the moment, he needed rest, needed to conserve energy and even gain some more. He had no clue what was gonna happen in the next few hours, only that he should be prepared for anything and everything.

The unknown events leading up to finding the Key, however, weren't as scary as the thought of not having James the way he wanted him.

~*~*~*~*~*~

As soon as they left the plane, James received a text from Camille alerting him to the fact that his Camaro was waiting for them in long-term parking. Kendall made a comment over how handy it was to have an Oracle for a friend, only to be ignored. He took it as a sign of how things were gonna be between them for the rest of their trip.

During the drive, he commandeered the radio, refusing to deal with awkward, tense silences. If the driver was gonna pretend the passenger wasn't there, then he could do the same, changing stations at will whenever he disliked a song or commercials came on. If it bothered James at all, he didn't say anything, remaining as stoic as he had been since the end of their conversation on the plane. Not that Kendall cared.

Or was acknowledging he cared anyway.

It took them about an hour and a half, but they eventually made it to the SafeHouse. James parked around the back of it at Kendall's request, the two getting out and he locking it.

Kendall inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the scents of Minnesota. He could smell the pine of the forest in front of him, the wet earth from an apparent rainfall the night before. A slight chill was in the air, a stark contrast to the warmth he felt out west, and he tugged his flannel shirt tighter around his midsection. He never truly thought of the state as “home”, but as he stood there breathing it all in, he realized how much he missed it and how badly he longed to return. He wasn't entirely sure if it was Minnesota itself or just a desire to get back to how simple and uncomplicated his life had been—memory loss aside—when he lived there. Whatever the case, being there filled him with a sense of ease, a comfort he'd only found in one other place.

As if on cue, James stepped into his line of vision, a quizzical tilt to his eyebrow. He'd left the leather jacket back in California, opting for a long sleeve thermal instead, thinking it to be more appropriate for their upcoming activities. Kendall did agree with him on that, but the tightness of the shirt had him drooling, flashes of memories hitting him as he recalled what lay beneath the dark fabric.

“Kendall?” James called for his attention, head twisted to the side in question. “What now?”

Shaking loose thoughts of bare-chested Wolves, Kendall focused on the forest behind the muscular male, soon determining that he had no fucking clue what was next. He hadn't been expecting a big blazing sign displaying _THIS WAY TO THE KEY OF MANIFLEISS_ in neon letters, but he kinda thought there'd be some sorta clue as to which direction to take.

Some Map he turned out to be.

Rubbing his forehead, he focused on the waiting male a few feet away. “Maybe I should go to sleep and I can sleepwalk there,” he joked with a smirk, putting his hands on his hips. Clearly his subconscious knew which way to go, given all the dreams and the fact that he'd tried to go there while resting.

James still wasn't amused by Kendall's wisecracks, scrunching his closed eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose as if to stave off a headache.

Kendall sighed harshly, turning his eyes to the forest stretched out before him. He chewed his lower lip as he scanned the treeline, hoping something would pop out and signal him in some way. And while he did eventually get a clue about where to go, it just wasn't in the way he was expecting.

The compass mark on his inner-forearm began tingling, a lot like his Mate's Mark did when James was near. And while his gaze traveled along the edge of the woods, the tingling grew stronger, until his eyes came to a stop between two oaks. It wasn't an overly obvious sign, not a huge clue that anyone else could detect—which was sorta the point of him being a Map really—but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that was the way to go.

Not saying a word, he strode towards the opening with purposeful steps, hearing the sounds of footsteps in wet mud behind him. A vague idea of where he was heading, Kendall slipped into the forest and began the hike towards the Key.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The further they trudged into the woods, the clearer things became for Kendall. He instinctively knew which way to go, what direction to head in, all without anyone telling him. He had no physical map, no piece of paper telling him the lay of the land and giving him clues about where to head. He had no compass to refer to, nothing telling him which direction was north or south or any of that. Daylight meant there were no constellations to guide him and the tall trees hindered him from being able to tell the precise location of the sun. All he had to go on was a deep-seated belief that he knew what he was doing and the warming sensation on the mark on his forearm.

As the distance between themselves and the SafeHouse grew, so did his sense of deja vu. It was about an hour or so into their trek that they came across the stream he'd envisioned at the first motel he'd stayed at during his journey to California with James. And just like in that dream, he turned left, heading in the opposite direction of the water's flow.

James had thought far enough ahead to bring large water bottles and protein bars, allowing them to remain hydrated and nourished along their way. He still remained silent, content to just follow Kendall's lead. But he remained as vigilant as always, ears pricking at every sound, body on high alert just in case. They had no clue what would be waiting for them when they found where the Key was hidden and neither of them were about to take any chances, especially not the male who'd sworn an oath to protect the one guiding them.

The stream eventually banked off to the right, but Kendall kept them moving straight ahead, eyes constantly scanning his surroundings. He took in the brightly colored leaves, the mix of oranges, reds, browns, and yellows, the flashes of greens from those that kept their color year-round. He watched out for fallen limbs and exposed roots so he wouldn't trip, still stumbling every now and then on the uneven ground and the carpet of wet leaves. Wearing shoes with very little grip on the bottom was probably a huge mistake, but there wasn't really anything he could do about it except be extra cautious as he went.

Half an hour past the stream, Kendall felt a small sense of anxiety start to creep in. He hadn't come across any other landmarks he recognized from any other dreams, causing him to worry that maybe he'd missed something, maybe he'd taken a wrong turn somewhere. Except the warm tingles on his compass mark stayed, intensified, leading him to believe he was on the right track.

Soon he came across a familiar sight, drawing to a stop, James doing the same on his right. Green eyes roamed around, stopping when they viewed a familiar fallen tree, one that laid at a thirty-degree angle against a larger trunk. Relief hit him that he hadn't messed up or missed anything, rotating toward the lopsided tree and restarting his previous trudging pace, the other male following after him.

Turned out all the landmarks from his dreams were further apart in reality. It was another long trek before they came across the oak that was split in half by lightning, even further before they came across the elm with knots that resembled a face. He figured everything was closer together in his nocturnal reveries so it could all fit within the small amount of time his brain had to actually dream. Although really, the mark on his arm was actually like a GPS of sorts, tingling and pulsing with each turn. He tested it out with an intentional wrong turn at one point, the compass immediately cooling before a sharp sting hit it. He switched directions and headed the right way after that, feeling the warmth flood back into the circular shapes.

It was another twenty minutes or so before they reached the embankment, James scaling the four foot incline with ease, Kendall slipping on the wet mud. The Wolf reached down an arm, offering assistance, which the Phoenix accepted. Clasping one another's forearms, the larger male helped haul the smaller up with a grunt and a groan, pulling him right into his muscular frame.

Kendall felt his breath hitch as they stood chest to chest, eyes locked, breathing the same air. His inhales were shaky, shallow, a combination of the physical exertion of the past couple hours and the near proximity of the other male. His Mate's Mark was burning hot and his eyes slipped down to focus on James' lips, his tongue absently sliding out and licking his own.

“Thanks,” he breathed out, his heart pounding in his throat. He forgot all about where they were and what he was supposed to be doing. All he could think about was dragging the other male to the ground and getting them both naked and writhing.

That glow flashed in James' eyes before he stepped back, releasing his grip on Kendall's forearm. Clearing his throat, he swept his arm out, signaling the smaller male to lead the way.

Rejecting him again.

Kendall pushed aside the hurt, the sting, reminding himself that he was on a mission, that he was supposed to be finding the Key, not getting laid. With a renewed sense of determination, he moved around the larger male, setting off in the appropriate direction his intuition was telling him to go.

Twenty minutes later, they came across a small creek, one they easily jumped over. On the other side, Kendall was able to detect the giant stair-like boulders off in the distance, a mountainside further behind that. They were close. He could not only see it, but feel it in his bones and in the burning on his mark.

It only took them a few minutes to reach the nature-made steps, the two ascending side by side. Kendall's legs were aching, his throat raw and lungs burning from breathing so heavily, but the end was in sight, spurring him on, motivating him to keep going. In a matter of moments, they'd reach the top, and soon after, the Key.

Visions of what it would be like swam behind his eyes, images of digging in dirt, of rummaging through piles of rocks. He pictured treasure chests, fancy boxes with archaic symbols carved into the wood, and contained within, a shining gold key.

The illusions urged him on even more, giving him a second wind. He clambered up the flat boulders, muscles straining as he made the climb up the final one that was nearly half his height. At the apex, he doubled over, pausing to catch his breath.

James made the ascent easy, standing up straight as he looked around, not sounding nearly as winded as Kendall. Which was actually pretty annoying when he thought about it. 'Cause it wasn't bad enough the guy was so good looking, he also had to be in such great physical shape that a three hour hike wasn't anything.

Asshole.

He waved aside any inquiries about his wellness, straightening up and shuffling over to the mountainside that greeted them a few yards away, only to pause once more. Just like in all his dreams, he had a perfect view of a tall, slim opening on the side. The entrance to the cave that long eluded him.

He almost couldn't believe it. After all, weren't dreams just made up images? Weren't they all a creation by the mind in order to entertain, solve problems, or bring buried thoughts to the surface? They weren't supposed to be real. If you didn't recall ever viewing that scenery, chances were it didn't exist.

But for Kendall, it did. And he was staring right at it.

A warm hand rested between his shoulder blades, his head snapping to regard James on his right, the concern tilt of his brow. “You all right?”

“Yeah. Just—” He paused to figure out how to word what he was thinking without sounding insane, only to come to the conclusion that he couldn't. Shaking his head, he let it go, mumbling out how it was nothing as he stepped forward, toward the opening.

The carved entrance was only an inch or two taller than he was and not quite wide enough for him to be able to just walk right in. Twisting to the side, he slid in, straining against a few spots where the rock still protruded and squashed him further. A foot or so of being squished and he popped out into a much wider and taller tunnel.

He observed his surroundings as James squeezed through, his larger frame having more trouble with the tight entrance than Kendall. The tunnel appeared to be carved by a man—or several men really—the walls uneven and bumpy. The small amount of light that came in let him see that it was a tan sorta color, although a month of falling asleep and spacing out during the geology section of his science class meant he had no clue what kinda stone the place was made out of. Feeling along the walls, his hands came across a wooden torch that sat waiting in an iron holder. He easily slid it out, allowing him to inspect it closer.

James finally burst out into the open tunnel, gasping as he did so before rubbing his chest. Kendall turned to him, holding the torch out in silent question. The larger male cocked an eyebrow as he stared at it.

“What?” he asked dubiously. “Can't _you_ light it, Phoenix?”

The smaller male raised his eyebrows before leveling his gaze at the wood, sighing. Narrowing his eyes, he imagined the end of it bursting into flames, imagined the fire that would dance on it, illuminating the tunnel and their way.

Only nothing happened.

James huffed, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a lighter. With a flick and a snap, the Bic produced a tiny flame, one he used to light the torch. He extinguished his lighter before slipping it back into his jeans, gesturing forward with his hand.

“After you, Map.”

Kendall rolled his eyes in annoyance, not appreciating the monikers he was being referred to as. Spinning away from the entrance, he made his way down the tunnel, using the heat on his compass mark and his own intuition as guides.

The passageway twisted and turned, splitting off into various other paths, Kendall relying on his instincts to tell him which side to head down. The walkway rose and sank, causing a small sense of disorientation inside him, rendering him unable to figure out if he was heading up the mountain or down into the ground.

The temperature rose as they went, making them both hot, breathing hard. He ended up removing his flannel shirt and tying it around his waist, leaving him in just a t-shirt. James copied his idea, thermal around his own midsection, now clad only in a black wifebeater. Kendall tried not to think about the male behind him, about the muscles that would be flexing as they kept moving, about the sheen of sweat that would undoubtedly be covering his skin, about the harsh breaths that sounded a little too close to the pants and groans he'd heard in his ears only hours ago. Only under much different circumstances.

But trying not to think about something, and the reality of what actually comes into his head were two entirely different things.

Still, he somehow managed to push all those thoughts aside and focus on where he was going. Minor miracle really given how close the larger male was behind him, how the sweat had only managed to intensify his scent and body heat, how his Mate's Mark was a scorching demand on his finger to get closer to James.

An opening in the tunnel was the only thing stopping Kendall from pushing James against the wall and shoving his tongue down his throat.

The cavern they stumbled upon was circular in shape and had to be at least twenty feet in diameter with a dome shaped ceiling. As they stepped inside, torches along the wall lit up on their own, illuminating the space entirely.

Both of them froze on the spot, heads jerking in every direction to figure out how the flames had come to life, who had sparked them. Big fat nothing.

“Was that you?” James inquired, voice a mix of hope and unease.

Kendall slowly shook his head, eyes wide as he continued to scan the area. “Nope,” he replied honestly. “I'd say that was freaky, but considering recent events—” He trailed off, knowing there was no real need to finish the statement.

“Agreed.”

He tossed his torch to the side, the fire blowing out as it landed where wall met floor. His eyes roamed the cavern once more, this time for clues as to where the Key was hidden rather than for any unknown persons lurking about. The space had been carved out just like the tunnels, leaving nothing but a wide open area with a large rectangular shape rising out the floor in the middle. It stood about three feet high or so, resembling a table of sorts.

James strode over to the protrusion, crouching down to inspect it, presumably to find the Key. But Kendall didn't move, just let his eyes roam the cavern, hand scratching his scalp. Something didn't feel right. Something was off. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was the right place, that they'd taken all the right turns and this was the cavern where the Key of Manifleiss was hidden.

Only it wasn't.

Not in plain sight of course.

He felt all his mental images of buried treasure chests and special display boxes containing the Key melt away, dissolving into nothing, being replaced by disappointment and an empty feeling of failure.

No.

He shook his head. He hadn't failed. He was in the right place. He just... needed to search more.

James raised his head, forearm resting along the top of the table. He huffed, shoulders slumped in defeat, hazel-green eyes raised to Kendall in a _what now?_ expression.

The younger male didn't say a word, didn't acknowledge that he'd even been looked at. Instead, he began to meander around the circumference of the room, hand sliding along the wall, eyes roaming all over. He felt the compass mark on his arm heat up even more, making him think back to the hint game his foster mom had played with Katie when the younger female had gone searching for something.

“ _You're getting warmer, warmer, warmer,_ hot!”

Kendall stopped dead, fingers slipping into a crevice on the wall. Twisting, he faced the crack, unable to view inside of it. The compass was throbbing, his mind screaming at him that this was it, that he hadn't been wrong, that they found it. With a deep breath, he slid his fingers inside and hoped for the best.

There was just enough room for his slim arm to fit and he found himself absently thinking about how glad he was that he didn't have James' bulk, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to reach inside. He pushed in as far as he could, shoulder hitting against the wall as his fingers touched metal.

His eyes widened as he called out the other male's name. His compass mark was on fire, glowing red, fingers wrapping around something cylindrical.

James came charging over, skidding to a stop before he hit the wall. His eyes were frantic, rapidly moving over Kendall's face, unable to settle on any one thing. “What? What is it? What's wrong?” he questioned in a rush, voice as harried as his movements.

“I got it,” Kendall announced cheerfully, smile spreading over his face.

Relief flooded the larger male's features as his shoulders relaxed, his head tilting back as he whooped out a victory yell. “Thank _god_!”

Tightening his grip, Kendall slid his arm out the crevice, pulling the Key with it. Both of them watched as his limb was brought out into the open, revealing the Key.

That looked nothing like a key.

Kendall's lips twisted, frowning, eyes narrowed as he stared down at the heavy item in his hands. A sword.

He turned it over, inspecting it from every angle. Time had dimmed its shine, the edges dulled. But he could still see the tribal-like flame markings carved into the blade, the runes and symbols etched into the hilt. And judging by the weight of the thing, it could probably still do a lotta damage to someone. At least if it was whacked upside someone's head.

He supposed at one time it was a thing of beauty, a credit to its maker, but now, it was just strangely disappointing and confusing.

“Huh,” he blurted out without thinking, eyes still glued to the item they'd been searching for. “The entire time I was thinking it'd be shaped like, ya know, a key.” Lifting his head, he caught sight of a similar look of puzzlement on James' face, his brow drawn and his lips pursed.

“Same here,” he responded on an exhale, hand working the back of his neck. “Ya think someone would've mentioned it was a sword.”

“We're gonna need to have words with Lucy about this.”

He let out an “hmm” in agreement before his head snapped to the cavern's entrance. Growls rumbled out from his chest as he stepped in front of the smaller male, pushing him behind his larger frame.

Kendall narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips, the question formed in his brain and on his tongue. Except he never got the chance to speak it out loud. His ears perked up to the sounds of footsteps echoing through the tunnel, getting louder as the unknown arrival made his way toward them.

His heart began pounding loudly in his chest, palms sweating as they gripped the sword tighter in trembling hands. His breathing became shaky while he cowered behind James, peering over a broad shoulder to see who was coming.

An evil sounding chuckle drifted into the cavern before Jett sauntered in. The same smug victorious grin was on his face, the same dark delight twinkling in his eyes. His fingers were steepled in front of his abdomen, feet scuffing at loose dirt on the ground as he wandered nonchalantly to the side, acting as if he hadn't a care in the world. The easy-going nature of his body language was more unnerving than any of his snarled out threats or claws digging into Kendall's skin, making a chill race up the smaller male's spine.

“Pleasure to see you boys again,” he greeted, voice friendly, as though they were all the best of buds and hadn't hung out in a while. “So nice to be reunited with you both.” His smile grew, revealing perfectly white teeth, an underlying sense of menace hidden beneath the normally benign expression. Spinning on the heel of his boots, he leisurely paced in the other direction. “And you brought a gift. So thoughtful.”

Kendall's grip tightened even more on the hilt of the sword, hiding it behind his back. Not that it mattered, since Jett had already seen it.

The Half-Breed paused in front of the tunnel, cutting off the only exit, smirk disappearing. A hard expression replaced it, brow drawn into a flat line, eyes narrowed to slits. His teeth had turned into fangs that peeked out from behind his lips as he growled out an order. “Hand it over.”

“Go to Hell,” James snarled back, claws extending on the end of each finger. His entire body had tensed up, that coiled snake ready to spring into action. Kendall could practically feel the latent power held within, the heat rising off him as he stood with his feet planted, black eyes zeroed in on the Half-Breed.

Jett's hand flew to his chest, an offended gasp bursting from his parted lips. “Well, that's just rude,” he commented in a haughty fashion. Folding his arms over his chest, he shrugged a shoulder as he shook his head, acting incredibly put-out. “I honestly don't understand why you're still with the Ministry and being their little bitch, especially after we told you how you could be an Alpha with us.” The malicious smirk returned, along with that dangerous glint in his eyes, locking onto James. “You know how much better your life could be if you'd join us, little brother.”

Kendall's eyes shot wide open, inhaling sharply and holding the air in his lungs. As far as he knew, James was an only child, the product of two parents who weren't all that interested in having a kid in the first place. Yet Jett was claiming a fraternal bond, a shared parentage, something that James wasn't denying.

The smaller male stumbled back a step or two, head twisting to get a better look at the Wolf-Shifter's face. There was no shock like what Kendall was feeling, no anger at the outright lie, just a flat expression that spoke of a previous knowledge concerning their relation. James had been aware that Jett was his older brother the whole time and had hid it from Kendall, just like he'd hidden so many other things.

He couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever been told the truth, what else was being kept from him. Was James somehow in league with Griffin? Was he working alongside Jett in order to get the Key of Manifleiss? Was the entire trip to California with Kendall just a lie to get on his good side and get closer so he could find the Key and hand it over to the bad guys?

Bringing the sword to his front, he gripped the hilt with both hands, ready to lift it up and use it if need be. As far as he knew he'd never had any sorta training, but he figured it would still do some damage if he swung it around enough, especially against two weaponless males.

Better than nothing really.

Jett's eyes slid from James to Kendall, amused grin forming on his face, barking out a laugh. “You didn't tell him, did you?” he questioned in disbelief, the inquiry aimed toward the male he was no longer staring at. He chuckled more, the sound higher in pitch, speaking more towards the Phoenix now. “Man, what a shock this must be for you, huh?” More laughter before he let it die off, shrugging nonchalantly, still grinning. “ Oh well. Doesn't really matter, since you're about to die anyway. Permanently this time.”

Kendall's breath froze in his lungs. His chest tightened up as his entire body ceased to move. Dread was a cold prickle at the back of his neck, chilling him to the bone, and he struggled to do anything but tremble in fear.

James was the one who moved, a loud snarl leaving him before he sprang into action. He burst forward, leaping up onto the stone tableau in the middle of the cavern, using it to launch himself at Jett. The Half-Breed braced himself for impact, hands in front of himself as James slammed into him with his full weight. The two crashed against the wall in a series of thumps and growls, the Wolf holding his older brother against the stone with claws digging into his shoulders.

The Phoenix stood there, stunned, nowhere to go as they fought near the entrance. His mind flashed back to that night outside White Castle, the night when he'd been killed. Fuzzy memories washed over him, like watching an old TV with bad reception. He recalled the same sounds of fighting, the same growls and snarls, the same punches and grunts. He felt the same heart-pounding fear over James' safety, that same paralyzing anxiety that something bad was gonna happen to him and there'd be nothing he could do to prevent it.

Jett managed to get a good blow to James' stomach, followed swiftly by a headbutt that had the taller male stumbling back. The Half-Breed now free of his grip, he leveled a few more punches to the brunet's head, disorienting him. James quickly recovered, landing a kick on the other male's midsection that forced him back, hitting the wall with a loud “ooff!” 

Kendall watched with wide eyes as the two began exchanging hits, throwing punches, kicks, slashing with claws. The heat in the cavern intensified, the smells of sweat and blood joining the scent of dirt that hung in the air. He struggled to keep up with the fight, watching as James had Jett pinned to the wall one minute, then Jett slamming James into the center stone protrusion the next. The Wolf slashed out at the Half-Breed, four long welts appearing down the side of Jett's face, blood dripping down what were once perfect cheekbones.

Jett yelped out in pain, releasing the larger male and stumbling back a few steps. James seized the opportunity to rise to a standing position, eyes glowing red, rumble pouring from his chest. Kendall noticed the sweat darkening his tank, the dirt stuck to his damp skin, the rapid rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed heavily. But his every move was still fluid, graceful, as he stalked his way over to the Half-Breed, motions more predatory animal than fighting human.

James grabbed hold of his opponent's polo shirt, bringing them face to face, snarling as he spoke through fanged teeth. “You _ever_ dare to threaten him—”

“Or what?” Jett interrupted in a snarky tone, not intimidated, smirking. “Not like you'd actually admit to being in love with the bitch of a Map.”

That had James growling louder than before, punching Jett square in the nose with such force it sent the shorter male reeling backwards, a crunch sounding out as the bone was broken. The Wolf stepped forward with his fist raised, ready to land another blow, only to have his arm grabbed and twisted behind him, causing him to yell out.

Jett put his lips to his captive's ear, hissing through clenched fangs. “Now, now, little brother. That's no way to behave.” He grunted as he struggled to hold on to a fighting James, free arm wrapping around his midsection. “Just mind your manners and we can get this whole thing done in a flash, hmm?”

“Fuck you,” James spat out, reaching behind himself. With a clawed hand, he dug into the back of Jett's neck, ripping the skin open there.

Kendall winced at the sound of tearing flesh and the pain-filled roar that followed, shrinking even further as he watched the Half-Breed practically throw the Wolf-Shifter to the ground.

Jett gingerly felt his newly acquired injury, staring in disbelief at the blood on his hand. Eyes narrowing, he snarled at the brunet on the ground, stomping over. Claws digging into shoulders, he easily lifted the taller male and slammed him into the wall once again. He pressed his forearm against James' throat, cutting off his air, making glowing red eyes go wide.

“Say goodbye, little brother,” he growled out, getting in the other male's face. Putting more weight on his arm, he applied more pressure against his opponent's neck, causing him to gasp out. James' mouth flopped open and closed as he tried in vain to get air into his lungs. The red was fading from his eyes, the color turning to a dull black as his flailing arms and legs began slowing down.

Kendall saw red. Flames licked at the edges of his vision, his skin heating up all over. Anger had completely taken over, an overwhelming desire to kill Jett before he harmed James any more. Flames covered both hands, a fact he was barely aware of as he switched the Key over to his left. In an instinctual move, he brought his right hand back before flinging it forward, almost as though he was throwing a ball.

Well, not “as though” really, considering the fact that a ball of fire actually flew from his hand and hit Jett in the back.

The Half-Breed cried out an “ahh!”, the sound a mixture of surprise and pain. His shoulder blades contracted as his back arched, trying to get away from the flames that had ignited on his shirt. He released his choking grip on James, the larger male collapsing to the ground, before slowly turning around. His eyes were glowing red, face distorted in anger, sneering at the smaller male.

“Big mistake, Map,” he growled, slapping his own back to out the fire.

Kendall smirked victoriously, wielding the sword in both hands. On his command, flames spread over the blade, the entire thing alight with fire as he held it up defensively. “I'm a _Phoenix_ , fuck you very much,” he corrected haughtily, mimicking Jett's usual manner of speaking.

The Half-Breed snorted, sauntering around the stone tableau, narrowed eyes locked onto the smaller male. “Ballsy,” he admitted, sounding impressed, his devious grin reappearing once more. “But you aren't impossible to kill.”

James sprang up behind Jett, grabbing hold of the back of his head and his chin. “Neither are you,” he growled into his older brother's ear before twisting his hands in opposite directions and snapping his neck.

Jett fell to the ground, body laying in a heap on the stone. Dead.

The flames extinguished themselves, sword falling with a clang. Kendall stared in disbelief and awe at the corpse on the ground, a relieved sigh forcing its way out from his lungs. He still felt shaky, his insides trembling in adrenaline and panic. His heart was pounding in his throat and the only thing he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears and the pants he was exuding.

Lifting his eyes, he focused on James, noticing how his chest was rising and falling just as rapidly. He was covered in sweat, blood splattered on him—although it was hard to tell how much of it was his own—his neck purpling in a deep bruise. But those hazel-green eyes of his were steady as they remained locked on his dead older brother on the floor.

It was a long moment before James finally spoke, still not looking anywhere else but at Jett.

“Ya know,” he began, pausing to collect his thoughts. “I thought it'd be more satisfying when I finally killed Jett, more grandiose or something. Instead it was just—” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“Anti-climactic?” Kendall suggested.

Those eyes finally moved, meeting his and holding his gaze. “Yeah.”

The Phoenix nodded, exhaling harshly once more, working the back of his neck. Bending down, he picked up the Key from the floor, inspecting it for any damage and finding none. He still had no clue how he managed to throw a fireball at Jett or how he'd made the flames cover the sword, but figured it was something to mull over another day.

_“You have_ plenty _time to do it.”_ Lucy's voice echoed in his mind, reminding him of his immortality.

Green eyes sliding over to the Wolf-Shifter he was in the cavern with, he felt a previous sense of loss, knowing James was gonna die one day, and the earlier fear he had that that day had come.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, he adjusted his grip on the sword, slowly making his way over to James. “C'mon,” he spoke softly, not wanting to jangle the other male's nerves any more than they already had been. “Let's get outta here.”

James nodded dumbly, eyes fixated on Jett for another long moment before turning and scuffing his way over to the tunnel.

Kendall gave one last look to the Half-Breed's corpse, then the Key of Manifleiss. He should've felt more relieved, glad that his mission was done. Jett would no longer be coming after him, the Key was in the right hands, and his life wasn't in danger anymore.

Yet he couldn't help but feel like there was more to his journey than this and that things weren't as over as he thought they were.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The trip back out the tunnel took longer, fatigue slowing them both down, James more than Kendall. The younger male continued glancing at the elder, making sure he was okay, noticing small winces and barely audible grunts. He'd grip onto muscles, massage his lower back and shoulders, rub his fingers over his skin then check them for blood. But throughout it all, his face remained stoic, hiding the pain Kendall knew he must've been feeling.

The squeeze out the opening crevice seemed to be worse for James, who insisted on going first just in case. Kendall switched his gaze back and forth between the Wolf-Shifter and the tunnel behind them, halfway expecting to find Jett barreling up in a rage.

Eventually they both got out, breathing the fresh air in huge gulps. He felt relieved to be out, to no longer smell dirt and blood and sweat with every inhale, to be out of danger. The feeling was short lived as he heard the sounds of snapping twigs a few feet away, putting his body on high alert once again. Heart pounding, he raised the sword as he had before, hoping like hell he'd be able to reignite it, or at least be able to slice someone with it.

A warm hand laid on his shoulder, causing his head to snap to the left, eyes coming across James. The other male was calm, bags under his eyes, shoulders slumped. He shook his head, signaling there was no danger and that the blond needed to relax. With a bob to the head, Kendall went with what he was wordlessly suggesting, lowering the sword.

Moments later, Carlos raised himself up over the large boulder, putting him on the same level as the two waiting men. A bright smile formed on his features as he bounced over, greeting them loudly.

“Guys! You're okay!”

A tired smile formed on James' face as he nodded, the Latino embracing him in a tight hug.

Kendall turned away, watching as a dark-haired, blue eyed male—Dak, he remembered, having met the guy the night before at dinner—appeared where Carlos had just come up, the new arrival crouching and facing away, helping someone up. Soon, Rocque was yanked up in a series of grunts and groans, the leader not giving any thanks.

Dusting off his hoodie, the rotund male made his way over to James, bellowing out his usual greeting of “dog!” “You're alive.”

The Wolf-Shifter straightened up, spine stiffening in an automatic response around his superior. Carlos stepped to the side, making himself smaller, chewing his bottom lip as he glanced between the two males. James' face grew serious, brow drawn, lips slightly turned down at the sides.

“Yes, sir,” he replied, voice rough, the words hard to get out. “Jett's dead.”

Rocque waved a hand in dismissal. “Oh bah. Who gives a shit?” Kendall's eyebrows bobbed at that, sharing the sentiment. “Where's the Key?”

James motioned to Kendall with his head, Rocque's own cranium snapping towards the blond. His eyes went wide behind his bug-eye sunglasses—today's pair black rimmed with red glass—head tilting down to the sword in the younger male's hands.

“ _That's_ the Key?” he voiced his disbelief, albeit a little louder than Kendall and James had.

The two males answered with a synchronized “yes”, Carlos glancing back and forth between them with a furrowed brow.

The pudgy male huffed out a “huh”, shrugging large shoulders before stepping over to the Phoenix. “Hand it over,” he ordered, hands outstretched in expectation.

Kendall's eyes immediately went to James for a sign on what to do, not entirely comfortable with letting go of the sword. It was the map in _his_ head that had led them to it and he felt a sort of possessiveness over it, a belief that it was his responsibility to look after it. And while he knew Rocque was on the good side of all this, he still wasn't sure if he wanted to let it out of his sight.

A barely perceptible nod from the brunet was his only answer. Taking a deep breath, he decided to put his faith in James once more and trust his judgment. With careful motions, he laid the Key of Manifleiss in Rocque's hands and stepped back.

“Thank you.” It didn't sound all that genuine, but was probably all he was gonna get. Rocque's face scrunched up, like he was smelling something foul. “And, uh. Good job or something.” The words were forced out, as though he wasn't used to saying them and it wasn't a habit he was familiar with. A chubby hand fluttered about Kendall's shoulder before gently patting it, the action more puzzled than congratulatory. With a grumble, Rocque spun around on an expensive sneaker and lumbered his way over to Dak, Carlos joining them.

Kendall paid them no attention, focus once more completely taken by James. Stepping over, he stood on the larger male's right, lips pressed together in thought.

“I gotta ask,” he began quietly, frowning in curiosity and confusion. “Why didn't you tell anyone Jett was your brother?”

James swallowed audibly, dull eyes trained on the rock below his feet. His body was tense and Kendall had to resist the urge to embrace him and wipe away all the negativity that constantly seemed to inhabit him.

“I only found out recently,” he mumbled, rolling his shoulders. “When Griffin held me captive.” He raised his head, staring straight ahead, eyes unfocused. “Not exactly something I'm excited about or wanted to get out.”

Kendall's lips twisted in a sympathetic smile, understanding the desire to not be related to someone like Jett. But he also knew how it felt to be alone, to feel like you didn't have any relations, anyone you belonged to. To be an orphan.

His eyes scanned the other members of their group, mind thinking of Lucy and Jo. He might not have any blood relations, but he still had people he cared about around him, and that was certainly better than nothing.

Green eyes on James once more, he thought of all the moments they'd shared: awkward tensions in the car, the photos in the SafeHouse, the times they'd come together at Lucy's, at the motel, at the Palm Woods. If anyone felt like family to Kendall, it was him.

But he still couldn't help the empty feeling he had inside, the belief that it wasn't the same as having someone you shared DNA with. As much as he hated Jett, he wouldn't mind having the asshole as his brother, if it meant he had a brother at all.

Turning away, he copied James' actions, staring unfocused at the forest spread out before him. “Sometimes,” he began softly. “You just take the family you can get.”

James scoffed, head bobbing with the action, eyes rolling. “No,” he argued, voice cold, hard. “It's better and safer to be a lone wolf.” His head turned to Kendall, black eyes as emotionless as his face. “Literally.” Point made, he strode over to the edge of the boulder and dropped down, heading away from everyone else.

Kendall watched with sad eyes as the man he'd fallen for walked off, the hero with the world on his shoulders headed towards the sunset.

Leaving Kendall alone in the forest, just as he had been when he was found.


	5. Epilogue.

Kendall set the final box on the stack of others, letting out a huff as he collapsed over it. A few pants later and he straightened up, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. It wasn't that the box had been heavy—only halfway filled with undies and socks, a few beanies—it was just the fact that it was the fifth he'd had to lug up two flights of stairs, by himself.

When he'd arrived back at the SafeHouse with the rest of the group, he'd been informed by Rocque that he needed to pack all his shit up because he was moving to the Palm Woods. The announcement had come as a surprise to the younger male, although he wasn't entirely sure why. He'd always known that he wouldn't be returning to the foster house with Jennifer and Katie, but had never really considered that he'd be relocating his entire life to California. Part of him was hoping he'd settle back into a routine at the SafeHouse with James and was highly disappointed it wasn't gonna happen.

The absence of James at the cabin made it all the more real.

And as he packed up the items he was sure belonged to him, he wondered if he should also take the framed photos, or if he should leave them behind in the hopes that James would find and keep them.

He went with the latter.

Shoving a hand through his hair, he spun around and took in his new home. The room was about the size of the one back at the SafeHouse, complete with closet and his own bathroom. And just like at the SafeHouse, a bureau sat between the two doors, though this one was taller and had a mirror above it. On the opposite wall sat the double-bed, bare nightstands on either side. The back wall had a desk and chair that rested underneath a long window—one he absently noted he needed to get curtains or blinds for. It was all pretty standard stuff, nothing too fancy or special. All the furniture seemed to be the same dark wood that was prevalent throughout the entire mansion, the walls all flat white.

He hated it.

All right, maybe he didn't _hate_ it. There was absolutely nothing wrong with any of it. The mattress was decent, the provided sheets soft and comfortable. The room was just small enough to be cozy, but not to the point where he felt claustrophobic. He'd been told he could redecorate to suit his mood, hang any posters or artwork, buy new furniture and trade the items he'd been given, but he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to do any of that. Mostly because he wasn't entirely sure if he even wanted to stay there.

He knew he really shouldn't complain or whine about anything. After all, beggars can't be choosers and the fact that he was being allowed to stay there free of charge was pretty damn nice. It solved a lotta problems about what exactly he was supposed to do and where to go, given his previous residence back in Minnesota was a no go, as was the SafeHouse. It kinda seemed like his only option in a way.

But the thought of having to share a home with James—no matter how huge—was something he didn't think he could do. The other male had made it clear on several occasions that nothing was going to happen between the two of them, that Kendall needed to just let any and all feelings go or pretend they didn't exist. But that was an easier said than done sort of thing, especially when he knew he'd be bumping into James at every meal, walking past him in hallways, seeing him in countless other situations that Kendall couldn't think of at the moment. Plus the guy was his Guardian, meaning they were pretty much forced to be together at times. It would be pretty hard to forget you were in love with someone when you came face to face with them several times a day. Unless he died and lost his memories again, of course.

He trashed that idea as soon as it came to mind. He wasn't sure suicide worked like any other form of dying and would allow him to regenerate, and he wasn't about to experiment and find out.

A heavy sigh forced its way out between his lips as he realized he was more or less stuck where he was, no choice but to quit being such an ungrateful little shit and be thankful for what he'd been given. Despite any unwanted housemates. Besides, they were on separate floors, so chances were they might not run into each other. And there were countless people living at the Palm Woods, so he had plenty other folks to talk to during meal times.

Didn't solve the problem of James being his Guardian. Probably was just something he was gonna have to grin and bear. Plus with the Key of Manifleiss found and his life out of immediate danger, there was always the possibility that he no longer needed a Guardian, allowing him to go outside and live a normal life without a bodyguard following him around and watching his every move.

Deciding to just stop thinking about anything and everything, he put his duffel on top of the bed, unzipping it as a knock came from the other side of the door.

“C'min!”

The door opened, Dr. Wainwright stepping inside and shutting them both in the room. Her heels clicked against the hard wood floor as she eased her way over to the bed, small smile on her glossed lips.

“Just came to see how you were settling in,” she announced, reminding Kendall of his foster mom. _Former_ foster mom. He was gonna have to get used to her not having any relationship to him anymore. It seemed that when he'd gotten in that Camaro with James outside Sherwood's Grocery, he'd cut all ties with everyone and everything in Minnesota, something that hadn't been all that clear at the time but was painfully obvious at the moment.

The loss of Jennifer and Katie caused a tightness in his chest that he ignored, tilting his head down. He made like he was inspecting the contents of his duffel, but really was hiding the fact that he was trying to get a grip on his emotions. As his therapist, Dr. Wainwright had picked up on every small visual clue about how he was feeling, even infinitesimal facial ticks that he wasn't even aware he had done. Chances were that she still possessed that skill and would use it against him in that moment. The last thing he wanted to deal with was an impromptu couch session over how he was feeling.

He gave a nonchalant shrug, shoving things aside in his duffel, more to look busy than an actual search for a particular item. “Fine,” he replied flatly, still conscious to keep his voice and hands steady, to not give away any clues.

Dr. Wainwright let out a non-committal “hmm” noise, lips pursed in thought. “Ya know,” she began, tone friendly. She smoothed her gray pencil skirt under her before sitting on the edge of his bed opposite from where he was standing. “I might not be your therapist anymore—not technically anyway—but if you ever need someone to talk to or to help you in any sorta way, I'm here for you.”

Kendall raised his eyes to see her friendly smile, the genuine fondness in her dark eyes. From the tone of her voice and the expression on her face, he truly believed that she cared about him as more than just a patient, that she'd grown to cherish him in a big sister, or even a maternal sorta way. And at that moment, when he thought he had nothing and nowhere to go, he could use someone's care and affection.

He fingers hit against something with hard edges inside his bag and he tilted his head down once more to identify what it was. Laying on top of his clothes was the framed photo he'd taken from the SafeHouse when he'd first left for California with James, the one of him kissing James' cheek and the other male smiling widely.

His earlier thoughts of being stuck in a house with someone he couldn't have returned, replacing the happiness he'd felt at the new knowledge that Dr. Wainwright cared about him. His insides felt cold and empty, like the internal fire he supposedly had was hit with a dry ice bomb, completely extinguishing the flames and leaving him frozen. And considering the heat that seemed to take over whenever James was near, the burning he felt on his Mate's Mark and on his back, it felt like an accurate metaphor.

“Thanks,” he choked out before attempting to swallow the lump in his throat, being unsuccessful at it. His voice was rough, broken as he continued. “But I'm not entirely sure you can help.”

A long moment of silence stretched between them, during which Kendall continuously stared at that photograph. He wondered about the circumstances surrounding it, the situation when it was taken. Clearly they were both in a good mood, jovial, given the lightheartedness of the picture. And neither one had any trouble showing affection, showing that they cared about each other. It seemed perfectly normal for them to express how they felt, to take photos kissing cheeks or lips, hugging each other close.

Kendall wondered what had changed between them, why James was so cold and distant during this incarnation of his life. Had they gotten into some sorta fight? But really, wouldn't that have been mentioned at some point? And with Kendall's mind having automatically hit the reset button after he'd been killed outside White Castle, wouldn't that have given James a sort of do-over, a chance for them to go back to how they'd been before, the happy affectionate couple that was so well documented in the photos at the SafeHouse?

But as badly as Kendall wanted to know why things had changed, he wanted the memories of happier times more, if for no other reason that it would give him comfort at night and help him understand the few moments he and James had come together in a loving way during their trip from Minnesota to California.

“I don't think anyone told you what I am,” Dr. Wainwright began, waiting until Kendall raised his head to her before she went on. She slipped something out of her pocket, holding it up between her fingers so he could fully view it. He immediately recognized it as the black stone she'd used to hypnotize him in her office—if it was really her office to begin with—in Minnesota. “I'm a Mage. A special kind of Mage that deals with memories. I can take them away, I can manipulate them into something else, and I can even bring back ones that were lost or forgotten.”

He mulled the new information over, scratching his jaw. “So that's why you were picked as my therapist?” he realized, speaking in an even tone. “Because you could help?”

The corner of her lips turned down as she shook her head, lowering her hands so they were on her lap, the stone covered up. “Actually, no. Once a Phoenix loses his memories, they're gone forever and even _I_ can't help recover them.”

He felt another huge sense of loss weighing him down, thumb stroking the frame in his duffel. He'd be lying to himself if he didn't admit he'd felt a small spark of hope flare up inside at the mention of her talents, a hope that maybe he could remember something from his and James' past that would give him more happiness to cling on to. Only for it to be extinguished, just like everything else.

“Then again,” she continued, head tilting to the side. “You _did_ remember something during our last therapy session, and I was able to help you fully bring that memory to the surface.”

He felt that small flare of hope again, but refused to let it get any bigger. “So that's not supposed to happen?”

“Not really,” she admitted. “But I keep hearing about how special you are, so who knows? Maybe if we work together, you could remember more. Maybe even everything.”

The hope inside turned into a full-fledged fire, the flames beginning to melt away the ice that had formed around his heart. Head tilted down, he stared at the framed photo once more, mind made up.

“Think we can get started now?” he asked her, the desire and wishful thinking leaking out into his words.

She shrugged as if to say _don't see why not_ , before actually speaking out loud. “But it could take some time for you to gain your full memory and get it all back.”

“I don't want it all back,” he stated determinedly. “Just one memory.”

Another nonchalant shrug then she rose to her feet. “Well, no time like the present. Let's head to my office and get started.” She turned on a spiked heel and made her way to the door at a pace that was neither slow nor hurried.

Kendall gave one last look to the framed photo, taking a deep breath to steady his rapidly beating heart, drawing strength from the image inside his duffel. Tired of waiting and struggling to remember who he'd been and what had happened to him, he zipped it shut and stepped around the end of the bed, determination and resolution set on his features. He was gonna get some answers and now.

~*~*~*~*~*~

There was mud on her two-hundred dollar Uggs. Someone was gonna pay.

Jennifer let out a huff, arms folding over her small chest, hip swinging out to the side. To say she was unhappy would be a major understatement; she was _pissed_.

Okay, so she couldn't complain _too_ much. At least Beau and his trio of morons had managed to blow the entrance to the cave open so she wouldn't have to squeeze in and get dirt all over her hundred dollar jeans or seventy-five dollar top. But she didn't spend all that time that morning making herself cute just to be stuck in some stinky, gross cavern watching a quartet of moronic Wolf-Shifters take care of the body of a fifth one.

Jett Stetson.

Flipping her brown hair behind her shoulder, she leveled chocolate colored eyes at her two companions, both of whom shared her moniker. The leader of their trio was blonde, more curvy, a perfectly manicured eyebrow arched as she barked out orders from between pink glossy lips. The third Jennifer had caramel colored skin, her hair in tight curls as it barely touched her shoulders, large sunglasses covering dark eyes. She appeared as unamused as the brunette Jennifer felt, kicking dirt over a stain that looked eerily like blood and grimacing in disgust.

The brunette wiped away dirt from her arm with another huff. She didn't spend all that time lotioning up her olive toned skin just for it to be hidden by dust and grime. Gross.

“Ugh.” Her tongue stuck out, a shudder racking her body. “Are we done yet?” She complained, eyes roaming the cavern once more. There was no Key to be found—shocker—just the corpse of another Legion member, one they'd been ordered to collect. Well, not _them_ exactly. Griffin knew better than to send the Jennifers to do such a disgusting job such as touch something dead. They were to supervise Beau and the Idiots Three as they did so. The Jennifers simply had to track down where Jett's corpse lay.

Although no one said anything about woods or hiking or caves, otherwise she would've told Griffin where exactly he could shove his orders.

“We're working on it,” Beau stated from his position on the ground, crouched by Jett's dead frame. They'd wrapped it up in a white sheet and were apparently still tying it up with twine. Not only were they dumb, they were physically slow as well. Terrific.

She rolled her eyes, lips twisting in a pout, jaw clenched. “Well, hurry up,” she ordered. “I'm sick of this gross place. I need a long soak in a jacuzzi tub, like, now.”

“Oh, can it, Jennifer,” the curly-haired one retorted, her own annoyance audible.

She flipped her narrowed eyes over to her, taking in the way she was standing with her hands on her hips, a crevice directly behind her. “I just don't get why we need to be in here while they do this crap,” she pointed out snarkily. “Hell, I don't even know why we need to get Jett in the first place.”

“You know why,” the blonde one joined the conversation, blue eyes hard as they stared the brunette down. “The boss wants his son's body so he can do some sorta magical voodoo thing and bring him back. He won't be happy 'til he has all three of his kids back in his hands.”

The darker skinned Jennifer snorted, rolling her entire head, not just her eyes. “Yeah, well, good luck to him in getting James on his side.”

“That's why he wants Jett,” the blond pointed out, running a hand through her straight hair, inspecting the ends for any damage. “To try and convince James to join them using the fraternal bonds of love, or some cheesy crap like that.” Flicking her hair away, she refolded her arms, narrow gaze turning to the four working Wolf-Shifters on the ground.

“Still don't see that happening,” the curly-haired one muttered, before letting out a resigned sigh. “Guess the boss won't be giving up on that blond Phoenix guy then.”

“Duh.” It was her turn to roll her eyes, pausing to nudge one of the males who was slacking off. “He still needs the freak.”

“James or no James,” the brunette returned to the discussion, glancing back and forth between the other two Jennifers. “We can still get the Phoenix.” A slow smirk formed on her face, eyes glowing red in an evil delight. “Plan B.”

The other two exchanged devious stares, the same smirk appearing on their visages. It was only a matter of time before Griffin called on them to enact Plan B, and all three of them couldn't wait for it to happen.

~*~*~*~*~*~

They always say to just get things over with, rip it off like a band-aid. But that was always easier said than done. And no matter how it was dealt with—slowly and drawn out or quickly and all at once—it still hurt like hell.

Which was probably why Kendall was taking his time and putting off knocking on the door.

He knew eventually he was gonna have to. At some point, someone will walk down the hall, question why he was just standing there outside someone's room, especially when his own was on another level in the house. But he just couldn't bring himself to raise his hand, ball his fingers into a fist, and rap on the wood.

Nerves had his stomach twisted in knots, dread causing a nauseous feeling to take root. He didn't wanna do this, wanted to avoid this conversation at all costs. But he had to. It was better this way, better that everything be hashed out. He and James were in desperate need of clearing the air and getting things straight so that they could move forward with their lives, knowing where the other person stood and what was to happen from here on out.

The memory Dr. Wainwright—Kelly, he mentally corrected himself, using the name she suggested she call him since she was no longer technically his therapist, meaning there was no longer any need for formalities—had helped him recover flashed in his mind, the snippets of conversation he'd seen play before his eyes now echoing in his head. He recalled the emotions he'd deal with, his mental state at the time, everything. It was as crystal clear as it had been while he was in that moment. The woman truly was magical.

He remembered the sense of determination he'd felt when he'd come to after the hypnosis session, the knowledge of what he had to do, the determination that had disappeared as he'd taken the stairs to the third floor. But it was back with renewed vigor, a new burst of knowing that it was the right thing to do and that it had to be done immediately, or else they'd be stuck in that same sense of limbo they had been pretty much since boarding the plane to head back to Minnesota.

But no more. He was sick of games, sick of James' ever-changing emotions, sick of wondering what if and why and how come. He was gonna go in there, lay his heart out on the line, and get shit straight.

Now or never.

Taking a deep breath to steel his nerves, he stiffened his spine and knocked on the door.

A muffled “c'min!” was called through the wood and he followed the instructions, shutting the door behind himself. James was in there, alone, and it hit Kendall that he had no idea what he would've done if the Wolf-Shifter hadn't been in there, or had been in there but with company. He wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to relocate his balls and go for a second attempt at this conversation.

Deciding there was no need to worry about that, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, green eyes focused on James. “We need to talk.”

The flat tone of Kendall's voice had the larger male's eyebrow quirking up in question, before he slid the open drawer of his desk shut. Turning around, he leaned back so his butt was resting on the edge of the desk, arms folding over his chest in a relaxed manner as he shrugged.

“So talk.”

The blond nodded, the words dying in his throat at the sight of the other male. It was hard to think, much less speak one's mind, when staring at the image of an attractive man like that, especially when said man was standing in a way that emphasis muscular arms, long legs, and a broad chest.

Moving his eyes away, they came across the bed opposite James, not a better sight to look at. Now all Kendall could think about was the few hours they'd spent together on it, the way they'd come together in a few moments of passion and lust. The memories had his blood warming and his Mate's Mark tingling on his finger, forcing him to clear his throat against the lump that had formed in it.

Tilting his head down, he found it safest to look at the wood floor, at the black swirl on one plank. Licking his lips, he reluctantly began, not wanting to blurt it all out at once for fear it would hurt more than drawing it all out. “I remember what happened. At White Castle. _Inside_ White Castle.”

Raising his head again, he watched as James' face tightened up, as his adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed hard. His features had slipped into an expressionless mask, but his eyes said all, the way they darkened and became watery.

“I thought you couldn't—”

“Kelly is a memory Mage,” he interrupted the larger male's soft voice with his stronger one, able to find the courage to actually look at him as he spoke. “She helped me remember our conversation the night I was killed in the woods, the one where you said you no longer wanted to be with me and that you put in a request for a transfer.”

Now the Wolf-Shifter turned his eyes away, staring straight ahead at the wall above his bed. His muscles had tensed up, hands clenched into fists below his biceps, muscle in his jaw ticking. “I can explain,” he began, voice rough, like he was holding back emotions.

The words hit Kendall like an eighteen wheeler, the memory of that exact phrase still prevalent in his mind.

Jaw working in anger, he shook his head as a small laugh of disbelief slipped past his parted lips. “You said that same thing that night,” he pointed out, aggravation building up inside. Aggravation at himself for falling into this same routine, aggravation at James and his lack of giving a shit up until that moment, aggravation that came with the memory.

He'd been pissed then, hurt, a genuine belief that he was an idiot for actually thinking James cared about him enough to forget all the rules and just _be_ with him. But instead, the Wolf-Shifter had taken the amazing thing that existed between them and threw it right out the window, like garbage as he sped down the highway. He acted like the whole thing didn't mean jack to him, that he was better than this, better than Kendall, and that he didn't want to stay in a relationship with him. He was done, over it, moving on, and it killed Kendall inside to know he was losing the one person that meant more to him than anything else in the entire world, including himself.

And the worst part had been James' nonchalance over the whole thing. He just didn't seem to give a shit that he was hurting the younger male, that he'd taken an entire weapon's vault full of knifes and swords and daggers and jammed them all right into Kendall's heart. He might've been a Phoenix and technically been nearly impossible to fully kill, but he truly believed—no, he _knew_ that there were fates worse than death, and he was living it at that moment. And James had just complained about the lack of meat on his sliders.

That had been the part when Kendall had stormed out in a rage, stomping off into the forest surrounding the fast food joint on three sides, not caring that he had no clue where he was going, just knowing that he needed to get away from James and _fast_.

The anger he'd felt at White Castle was with him in James' room at the Palm Woods, clenching his jaw and his fingers as he stared at the other male with narrowed eyes. The Wolf-Shifter was gripping onto his t-shirt at his sides, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he kept his lowered eyes trained on the floor between his bare feet. If Kendall didn't know any better, it was almost as if the larger male was actually trying to keep himself together.

Releasing his bottom lip, James worked his jaw, rolling it as he breathed through parted lips. “I dunno what to say,” he confessed lowly, voice breaking slightly.

Kendall nodded, rubbing the back of his neck, knowing it was time to rip the band-aid off. No more playing with the edges, no more slowly lifting it up, just a total tearing off of the bandage.

“I talked to Rocque,” he began, the rest of his words tumbling out of his mouth like a verbal waterfall, the dam having fallen apart. “I had the transfer finalized, watched him do it. I have a new Guardian now so you no longer need to worry about keeping me away or trying to fight off any of my unwanted advances.”

That had James' head snapping up to him, eyes wide, brows turned up, lips still parted. The hazel-green orbs were shinier than ever, more brown than green prevalent in them, as his bottom lip slightly quivered. “Wha—Kendall, I never said I didn't want you,” he argued, straightening up as he turned to the smaller male, hand on his chest.

Kendall refused to back down, refused to be swayed by any signs of upset. Too little, too late.

“You did that night,” he pointed out flatly.

“Yeah, but—”

“Doesn't matter,” he retorted, shrugging nonchalantly, careful to keep his features flat. Just like James had done so many times. “You made it clear you don't wanna break any rules, so I won't be around to make you do that. We're done. I'm leaving the Palm Woods—and you—far behind me.”

A tear slipped past James' barrier, falling over a perfect cheekbone, but it went unnoticed by the taller male. His focus was solely on the person he was in the room with, the one who was staring back at him with hardened eyes and no emotion.

“Please, Kendall,” he choked out, taking a step forward. He stopped when Kendall held up a hand, wordlessly telling him not to come closer. He sniffed loudly, swallowing, bottom lip sucked between his teeth. He wasn't broken, not yet, but the cracks were showing, causing one to appear in Kendall's heart.

But as much as he wanted to rush over to the other male and hold him tightly, as much as he wanted to say it was all a mistake and that he'll have things changed back, as much as he wanted to make it all go away, he couldn't. It was final, over, and he needed to walk away from James if he ever wanted to be happy, to be at peace, to be able to actually live his life the way he wanted to.

Kendall stiffened his spine, inhaling deeply and holding the air in his lungs. He needed to be strong, needed to keep ripping rather than allow that band-aid to just dangle there, forever stuck to him. He needed it gone.

Shoring up the last of his courage, he met James' eyes with a steely resolve, voice even and calm as he spoke. “Goodbye, James.”

With that, he spun on his heel and twisted the knob to get out. He ignored the other male's cries to wait, leaving the room and shutting the door behind himself, before leaning back against the wall next to it.

He could hear James' fist hit the wooden door, hear him gripping the knob, hear the muffled sounds of crying and sniffing. His eyes slid closed, holding back tears of his own, refusing to let them fall. He'd done the right thing, had made the correct choice in all this. Now he was going to have to live with it, to be strong and move on.

The door shuddered as it was punched, an angry groan turned growl following. Kendall held his breath as he listened to heavy footsteps on the wood floors, the sounds fading, meaning they were heading away from the door.

He blow the air out slowly through puffed cheeks, shoulders slumping in relief. He felt exhausted, the drama and terror of the past few days dragging him down once again, and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep for about a week.

Twisting his head, he strained his ears to try and hear any noises inside James' room, getting a big fat nothing. Guilt was a lead ball in his stomach, making him feel more nauseous than the dread of having to have that conversation. But it was necessary. As much as he hated hurting the brunet that way, it needed to be done, if for no other reason than the selfishness of trying to prevent any more pain from coming his own way.

Taking yet another deep breath, he pushed away from the wall. With heavy dragging steps, he made his way down the hall, up the stairs, and to his own room.

The tears came as soon as he shut his door.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The door swung open without a knock or permission to enter.

Rocque's head snapped up from where he'd been reading over request forms, eyes widening behind blue bug-eye sunglasses at the clatter that had sounded out before him. His second in command Kelly stomped in—as much as she could in stilettos—slamming the door shut behind herself. She was clearly in a rage, he could tell just by looking at her. Her hands were clenched into fists around a manila folder, her nostrils were flaring as she exhaled sharply, her chin was jutting out in an unattractive way. One more minor thing and her eye would start twitching.

But still, that did _not_ give her permission to storm into his office uninvited.

“Don't you knock?” he demanded to know, pointing with a large finger to the door behind her.

She ignored the question, slapping the folder on top of his desk, causing loose sheets of paper to flutter up at the corners. “You split up Kendall and James?!” she shrieked, hands on her hips, eyes as wide as her nostrils.

Incredibly unflattering.

Elbows on his desk, Rocque held his hands out in a _and your point?_ manner. “Yeah. So?”

“You can't split them up!” she cried out, arms flailing.

He rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses, shaking his head. No wonder she was still single. Made him wonder why he put up with her as his second in command, given her tendency to overreact and have random emotional outbursts. Just like she was having at that moment.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, recovering, calming herself down. Smoothing her hair down, she then put her hands back on her hips and spoke in a much more even manner. “Why did you split them up?” she inquired, opening her eyes and meeting his through blue glass.

“Because the Phoenix wanted me to,” he explained, the “duh” part going unsaid. He wasn't entirely sure why they were even having this conversation. Not like the internal affairs of Guardians and Protected concerned her, not really. Her job was to make sure Rocque was happy and not having a freak out of his own, while helping anyone with memory loss remember what had been forgotten.

Nowhere in there did it say she needed to be in his grill questioning his every move.

There was a reason for that.

Her chin jutted out again, but she kept the calm demeanor she'd recently regained. Hip sticking out, she folded her arms over her chest, staring down at him with hard dark eyes and an arched brow. “You know Griffin's still out there, with the other parts of the Key? We need to find the other pieces of the map so we can get them before he does.”

He waved a hand of dismissal at her, snorting out a “pah!” as he did so. Another overreaction, even if it had been spoken so calmly. “It's fine. They're in safe hands.”

The eyebrow raised higher, lips turning up in a disbelieving sneer. “That's what you said about Kendall.”

He held his hands out to the side, not seeing the big deal about any of this. “He lived,” he reminded her, voice raising slightly.

“He's a _Phoenix_ ,” she pointed out, leaning over his desk, the whole thing being explained just by her emphasis on that one word.

Rocque stared at her over the top of his sunglasses, eyebrow cocked. He was fully aware of what the kid was, he just didn't fully care. In fact, he didn't really care about any of this conversation or the point for having it. He just needed her out of his office so he could finish what he was doing, that way it would be done and he could get some food.

He'd heard rumors of chocolate cake and he'd be damned if any of his dogs would get any before him.

Refusing to argue with her, he changed the subject in the hope to placate her and get her to leave. “Point is,” he began, staring at her pointedly. “Griffin didn't get him, we found the first part of the Key, and blah blah blah.” His head see-sawed on the last part, the more juvenile aspect of his personality taking over.

Kelly sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She stood there for a long moment, before lifting her head, giving him a hard look. She wasn't fully happy with what they'd discussed, and probably wouldn't ever be. It was clear she wanted Kendall back under James' protection, but it wasn't gonna happen. And she was realizing this, which was aggravating her further. But that's how their relationship worked: he'd do something she didn't disagree with, she'd try to change his mind, he'd stubbornly refuse, and she'd end up just going along with, complaining the entire time that it was a bad idea.

He made sure he didn't think about the part where she ended up being right when the whole thing blew over, because that bit didn't matter. Not really. Not to him anyway and he was the one who counted in this entire thing.

Reaching over his desk, she grabbed the file she'd slapped there when she'd first came in. “I still say you're making a huge mistake,” she informed him in that voice that said she was done arguing and was gonna go along with it, despite how much she hated it.

He just waved another hand at her, rearranging the papers her file had blown around.

Her lips pursed as she watched him, toe tapping. When it was obvious she wasn't gonna regain his attention, she quit—thankfully, because, _god_ , was that annoying—folding her arms over her chest once again. “Kendall's gonna be a bigger player in all this in the future and he works better with James. You'll see I'm right soon enough.” With that final statement, she turned and calmly walked out, closing the door quietly as she left, a stark contrast to how she'd come into his office.

Rocque removed his sunglasses and leaned back in his chair, roughly rubbing at his eyes as he groaned. He already knew she was right, since she pretty much always was. He'd just be damned if he ever admitted it out loud.

Besides, it didn't matter if he realized what a good team the Phoenix and the dog made; it was up to them to figure it out for themselves, something that was completely out of his control.

Something that pissed him off worse than raging second in commands and eaten chocolate cakes.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Kendall stopped crying almost as soon as he had started. He didn't have time to sit around and blubber. He had shit to do, and fast. Because the sooner he got it all done, the sooner he could leave the Palm Woods and get as far away from James as possible.

The thought of the other male's name was another stab to the heart, his hand flying up to press the center of his chest. He reminded himself that one day it wouldn't hurt, that he'd be over the Wolf-Shifter, find someone new, someone who didn't hold him at arms length, someone who didn't deny their feelings and wanted to be with Kendall, too.

He felt his Mate's Mark tingle on his finger, as if it were calling him a liar, mocking him, telling him it would never happen and he'd never get over James.

He glared down at it before heading to the bathroom, quickly locating medical tape. It was the work of a quick moment, and the bottom knuckle on his finger was wrapped, the mark hidden. Outta sight, outta mind.

He hoped.

A soft knock sounded on his door, causing his head to snap up and his heart to lurch. A small spark inside hoped it was James, hoped the other male was coming to talk to him more. It had been a crushing blow when he realized the Wolf-Shifter wasn't following him, yet another reminder that James didn't care about him that way. But maybe after some thinking, the elder male had reconsidered everything and had come after Kendall.

Staring down at his hands, he flexed his fingers, noting the lack of tingles or burns on his mark. It wasn't James. He knew it.

But still that hope remained.

Shutting off the bathroom light, he quickly made his way to the door, practically flinging it open. No James. He tried to hide the disappointment from his face, forcing an easygoing smile as he greeted the person who was in fact there.

“Hey, Carlos.”

The Latino's usual beaming grin was missing, a smaller one in its place, not quite reaching his eyes. He waved with his right hand, something small and rectangular in his left, bouncing on the pads of his feet. “Hey. Heard you were leaving,” he stated, voice curious but not pushy.

Kendall rubbed the back of his neck, keeping a hand on the door knob, wincing slightly. He had no idea the news would travel that fast, or that anyone other than Kelly or James would even care to hear about it. Yet here was this male he'd spoken to on two occasions inquiring about his departure and seeming slightly bummed out about it.

“Yeah,” he breathed out, dropping his hand. “I just don't think this is a good place for me to be.”

“Because of Ja—” He cut himself off at the wince that had formed on the taller male's face, lips pursing into an “o” shape and holding. After a long moment, he shrugged, smiling once more, apparently over it. Kendall found himself envying the shorter male's easy-going nature and bouncy personality, how nothing ever got him down. He wished like hell he possessed that kinda bounce-back ability, especially at that moment.

“Anyway,” the Latino started cheerfully. “I just came to wish you luck. And see if maybe one day we can be friends?”

A smile tugged up the corner of Kendall's lips as he looked down at the hope on Carlos' face. He looked like an actual puppy—fitting really given the crescent moon mark on the left side of his neck and the meaning behind it—and the blond had a hard time saying anything negative to it.

“Sure,” he replied, genuinely meaning it. From the small peeks he'd gotten at the other male's personality, he enjoyed his company and definitely wouldn't mind being around it more. It was just a shame he was leaving before they could really get to know each other.

Carlos beamed at that, bouncing once again. Kendall couldn't help but smile back.

“Oh!” the shorter male cried out, face changing into the previous “o” look as his head tilted down. He stared at the object in his hand as if he'd just remembered it was there, thrusting it out towards Kendall. “Here, this is for you.”

He took it with some reluctance, noting the brown paper it was wrapped in and the twine that was holding it together. Frowning, he looked back at the Latino. “You got me a gift?”

Lips pressed together, Carlos shook his head rapidly. “It's not from me.”

Confusion stayed, but Kendall never got a chance to say anything else. Carlos had called out a “see ya, fly safe!” before practically skipping down the hall, cheerfully on his way to wherever his next destination was.

His eyebrows bobbed in an _okay then_ fashion before he closed his door. Eyes fixated on the rectangular shape in his hands, he turned it over and over, inspecting it from every angle as he blindly made his way over to the desk. The knot was easy enough to undo, the rough brown paper falling away soon after, revealing a red leather journal underneath.

Kendall let out a whistle, knowing these things were expensive. It felt like genuine leather, the feeling backed up by the stamp declaring such on the back of it. A flap laid over the front, a long strip of ribbon wrapped around to keep it closed. He untied it, opening the journal up and finding a fountain pen located inside, held in place along the spine of the book.

“Damn,” he muttered out to no one, impressed by the quality of the gift, although still confused as to its origins.

He flipped through the pages, finding them all blank, save for the first one, where a scrawled message had been written in black ink.

“ _Kendall,  
I've had this for a while, but never really found the right time to give it to you. Seems like nothing is ever the right time for us...  
But I thought you should have it, despite whatever relationship we may have at the moment—whether we're together, apart, you love me, you hate me, doesn't matter. I just felt like you should have this. I thought you could use it to write everything important down, that way the next time you lose your memory, you could look back at everything that mattered and maybe you could remember it again.  
If not, then maybe this could make some nice kindling for you to practice making fire.  
Either way, I hope you enjoy it and get some sorta use out of it.  
Forever yours,  
James._”

Kendall felt his vision waver, emotions forming a lump in his throat. Despite essentially cutting all ties with the other male, James still wanted him to have something that would help him, was still thinking of him and his memories.

His eyes drifted down to the corner of the page, where the Wolf-Shifter had doodled a crescent moon with a directional arrow; their Mate's Mark.

He sniffed loudly, wiping away a falling tear. Pulling the chair back, he shuddered at the scrape of the legs against the wood before sitting down at the desk. Pen in hand, he flipped the page, writing the date at the top of the page.

The date it had been six months ago.

Then he began to write:

“ _I woke up with no clothes, no name, and no memory of anything, just strange tattoo-like marks on my body..._ ”


End file.
